Dance a Little Dance
by Kisnau
Summary: It's 2014: The team is living in Stark Tower in NYC, and Tony finds Loki in Malibu, of all places. Tony keeps it on the down-low, and is surprised when, months later, Thor gets called home by Odin. Loki's returned, and Thor reveals he thought Loki died in 2013. The Avengers are invited to confer with Asgard in light of a new threat. Tony volunteers to go; maybe a bit too quickly.
1. Let's Try And Avoid Clichés, Shall We?

Disclaimer: I prefer to borrow, rather than own – like a library! I've got my Character Card in my wallet, hold on. Yes, I want the full ensemble for Marvel's universe, for this fic. No, no, I don't need the ones from "Guardians of the Galaxy," just yet, but thanks. Maybe another time. Oh, am I overdue on the Iron Man muse? Shall have to pay the fine, then. (Dammit, I've gotta have forty cents in here _somewhere_!)

It's 2014: The team is living in Stark Tower in NYC, and Tony finds Loki in Malibu, of all places. Tony keeps it on the down-low, and is surprised when, months later, Thor gets called home by Odin. Loki's returned, and Thor reveals he thought Loki died in 2013. The Avengers are invited to confer with Asgard in light of a new threat. Tony volunteers to go; maybe a bit too quickly.

Title: Dance a Little Dance

Chapter One: Let's Try And Avoid Clichés, Shall We?

Word Count: 8,335

[Total Word Count: 8,335]

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Eventual FrostIron/IronFrost, if we can get there in one piece.

Warning: Language, violence, allusions to sex, nightclubs (basically, Tony's lifestyle)

Spoilers: Incorporates everything in the main storyline up to the ending of "Thor: The Dark World". Also, Tony still has the shrapnel, electromagnet and arc reactor in his chest.

Author: Kisnau

Date: Thursday, January 1, 2015

Miscellaneous Notes: I should really be writing for "Second Try" (my YYH monster), not getting into a whole new fandom of fanfiction. Oh well~

First fic posted under my new handle name! How exciting! :D

Also, _Happy New Year_! :3

: : : : : : :

It didn't begin like one of those romantic comedies you see chugged out of Hollywood every December or February, like clockwork. It didn't begin like some clandestine, torrid affair that they both tried to hide from the rest of the Avengers, Asgard and S.H.I.E.L.D. in general.

Whether he knew it or not, it began with Tony walking down the street in Malibu, California, in a sweatshirt and jeans, the hood pulled up and sunglasses helping to hide his face. Being a famous genius billionaire was fantastic, really, but sometimes it was fun to just play the Regular Joe for a while.

So, he'd been walking. No Happy, no entourage, just some streetlights overhead during a late-night run for some good ol' American junk food. The bag of burgers and fries was still steaming in his hand, but the glint of something out of place caught his eye from across the street. When he turned to find the source more purposefully, it was gone. For a moment, Tony stared in the direction it'd been, then shrugged and continued on his way home.

He forgot about it.

: : :

A few weeks later – during the kind of 5:00 AM coffee run only ascribed to by insomniacs revving up for another day or the truly dedicated caffeine addicts getting their fix before going on a swim or a run or whatever those ambitious workaholics did first thing in the morning – and Tony was walking home, again. The streets were still blissfully empty, giving the impression of a ghost town were it not for the lit signs of the stores buzzing all around him. He passed by a café whose line didn't quite stretch out the door, yet, glancing in the window as he passed, to check himself out, before stopping cold.

Beyond the glass was a familiar face.

Mind processing all the possibilities, his body entered the café of its own accord and strode up to the person he'd seen without preamble. Standing at the side of the small, rounded table, Tony noted all the relevant details. This man was wearing a simple black suit with a black tie and white shirt. A green-and-yellow, thin, patterned scarf hung around his neck, and he seemed to be engrossed in his book. Black hair was swept back from his forehead, neatly slicked to give the impression of a pristine appearance.

"Fancy seeing you here." The man's eyes flicked up to Tony, at the comment. Every line of the man's body was calm as he made no other move; not to lean back, not to close his book, even.

"'tis a 'free country', is it not? That is what you say?" Tony smiled tightly.

"Sure is. You know, you look like someone I know." The stranger had the gall to appear mildly interested, eyes sharp with amusement before they turned back to his book, idly picking up his cup of tea to take a sip.

"Do I, now?

"Yeah." Tony plopped into the seat across from him, his coffee set in front of him, grin all teeth and misplaced anticipation. He waved a hand towards the other man. "Only he's usually in leather and silver and likes to fuck with people." The man's eyes flicked back up at him, a slow, engaging smile curling against the rim of his teacup.

"He sounds to be quite the intriguing individual." Those tones were smooth, unruffled. Tony didn't take his eyes off him.

"Yeah. He would be, if he weren't a wanted criminal. Last I heard, he was gonna be locked up for a long time. Eons, maybe." There was a mild click of porcelain as the teacup was set back down, and the man's eyes returned to his book, every inch of him still radiating a dismissive calm.

"I am certain you exaggerate."

"Not really." Tony suddenly shot back, abruptly annoyed. "Two years isn't long enough for _that_ debt to society to be paid in full. Trust me, I know." The man smirked, but didn't bother to look back up at him.

"'You know', do you? How, praytell?"

"I have my sources." A glittering glance from over his book was all Tony was afforded, for that one. The man's eyes seemed black in the shadows of his face, a corner of his mouth pulling in a subtly smug smile.

"Sources can be unreliable." Tony narrowed his eyes at the man.

"So I'm finding. What're you doing here, anyway?" The man took another sip of his tea, demurely.

"Reading. That is, until you so kindly forced your presence on me." Those dark eyes settled on him, again, narrowing slightly in a subtle threat despite the liar's congenial smile the man was sporting. Tony didn't flinch, just returned the look with equal bravado.

"Like I said, you reminded me of someone. Wouldn't any good citizen turn in a wanted criminal, if they had the chance?" Tony neglected to mention he wasn't exactly known for being a 'good citizen', but the man's eyes flashed, anyway.

"Are you implying something?" Tony grinned at him, again, crooked and bullshitting.

"Depends on if you're going to act like a criminal or just some bookworm in a coffee shop, I guess." The surreal blackness in those eyes faded away, replaced by sharp, pale green as the man assessed him, finally leaning back in his seat. After a long stare-down, the man broke it, his voice soft and contemplative.

"A criminal would lie about his true intentions." Tony paused, looking up briefly at the ceiling, considering.

"Well, _yeah._" The man's mouth pressed into a firm, thin line of irritation.

"Then what is your point?" Tony shrugged, shifting in his seat and finally grabbing his coffee off the table.

"You had two options; say yes, say no. You picked the third. Or was it the fourth?" Tony squinted in thought, then shrugged. "Either way, a true criminal wouldn't admit his guilt. He'd hide it. Or try to justify it. Guess it wouldn't be too likely he'd be sitting here sipping tea instead of causing havoc." The man studied him. Tony watched him even as he lifted his tall, paper coffee cup, for a drink.

"Perhaps his motives are not criminal, then." Tony raised a brow at the quiet tone, the man's eyes on his steady and seeming to be waiting for the axe to fall. Tony set down his coffee.

"If that's the case, then how's he a criminal? Sure, he should be locked up, but this guy's powerful. Doubt we could hold him if we wanted to, unless we had some outside help." Tony watched him carefully as he said this, and the man blinked slowly at him before smirking faintly and returning his eyes to his book.

"A valid point." The man said diplomatically, making a show of turning the page even though Tony knew he hadn't been reading. His eyes hadn't moved in that classic typewriter-action across the page, once, during their entire discussion. "But what's to stop your friend from reverting to his old ways, if this is indeed him we're talking about?"

"He's not my friend." Tony stated abruptly, and the man jerked his gaze back up to Tony, eyes wide for a moment in surprise before narrowing in anger. Tony put out a hand, palm-out in the universal gesture for peace (if you weren't Iron Man, that is). "Don't get me wrong. He opened a fucking alien portal over my penthouse, unleashed chaos on NYC, and messed around with a whole shit-ton of people." The man's eyes flickered, threatening black again, but Tony continued, pointing his hand like a gun at him. "But you? You wouldn't do all that, right?" Tony's eyes were steel; warning of an inevitable outcome. "Because you're not sitting here like a criminal. You're not just pretending to read a book but really plotting all these ways to screw the world over, again. You're just sitting there drinking your tea and having a conversation with the one, the only, Tony Stark, because I'm a devastatingly attractive charmer."

The man stared at him. Tony kept his face unreadable, watching him. The situation could spiral out of control at any moment, and he might need to be ready. But then again, it might not.

After a long time, the man turned back to his book with a soft chuckle.

"Are threats and blatant narcissism the standard protocol for all your new friends, Mr. Stark?" Tony mostly resisted the smile that was trying to claw onto his face.

"Only the ones that deserve it." He conceded, and was rewarded with an amused look for his trouble, before the man's eyes dropped back to his book. Slender fingers curled around his teacup, again, lifting it.

"I shall keep that in mind, then." The man murmured, taking another sip. Tony watched him for another minute, trying to adjust to the weirdness of what had just happened. Then, he decided he'd had enough intrigue for one day, and stood up. "Leaving already?" Tony glanced down, noting the man's eyes were still on his book. He shrugged.

"Sort of in the middle of a project. Just went out for some coffee." The man smirked.

"I would have taken you for the sort to make your own, in an expensive machine." Tony blinked at him, interested at the amount of research it'd probably taken the man to be able to make that comment.

"Well, yeah. But sometimes there's just nothing like getting cheap shit from down the street. Good for the neurons." A soft scoff greeted that, but the man shooed him lightly away with one hand, nonetheless.

"Do not allow me to keep you, then. Off you go." Tony grinned down at him, feeling oddly accomplished.

"See you later, toots. Be good, now." Tony spun on his heel and beat it out of there before the man could change his mind about being a civilian, not a criminal, this time around.

Some part of his mind was tugging at him, wanting to know why Tony hadn't just called for a suit and hauled Loki's ass in to S.H.I.E.L.D. But Loki hadn't _done_ anything, at least not yet, and wasn't this the country that prided itself on 'innocent until proven guilty'? If he'd escaped Asgard's prisons, then there was nothing Tony or any other human could do about it. Maybe Thor could've helped, but he was in Arizona and Tony got the feeling a little brotherly reunion would probably do more harm than good.

He'd seen the way Loki fought Thor, back in New York; all tricks and subtle jabs and daggers in the stomach and biting comments through the big guy's heart. New York had almost been _for _Thor – in a look-I've-got-my-sights-set-on-your-precious-humans-u-mad sort-of way. Tony did _not_ want to get in the middle of whatever issues those two had. If Loki started returning to his old ways, then Tony'd call up the team and they'd go at it and beat him down, again. But for whatever reason, Tony got the impression that Loki was almost… on vacation?

Weird.

He got home, and didn't think about it as he automatically asked Jarvis to do a scan of that coffee shop and see if he could glean any energy signatures at all from Loki, in addition to the ones they'd gotten during that conversation in Stark Tower, two years ago. It would make Tony sleep better at night, if he could somehow track Loki. Jarvis obliged, and Tony buried himself in a whirlwind of building, calculations and science while the program ran.

: : :

When Jarvis reported, hours later, that he couldn't detect any abnormal energy signatures among the usual humans coming and going out of that shop, Tony came to one of two conclusions.

Either Loki had left as soon as Tony did, knowing Tony'd try and tag him, or Loki's magic really _was_ magic, and couldn't be explained by scientific means. It might be impossible for Jarvis' scanners to pick up that wavelength of his energy. Then again Loki hadn't been cloaked, from what Tony could tell. He'd just been sitting there, innocently enough, acting like any other patron.

Still, it wasn't in Tony's nature to just give up.

Seeking Loki out when he seemed to be on a relatively peaceful visit sounded suicidal, at best, and Tony decided it was smarter _not_ to poke the tiger. If there was anything weird going on he'd notice it. Briefly, he wondered why Loki had chosen Malibu. Was it the sunny climate? The earth-friendly populace? Loki struck him as one of those 'earth mother' types, now that Tony thought of it. When the guy wasn't trying to conquer the world, of course. Loki'd seemed relatively mellow today, almost as though he was on top of the world. He'd had an assured serenity about him that Tony hadn't seen in New York.

That? That had been _all _desperation and a bid for attention, even if Loki wouldn't admit to it.

What had changed, in two years? Tony remembered hearing about something going on in London, a few months after all that shit involving the Mandarin and Pepper being kidnapped. The news cameras had been all over it, but the quality had been pure shit. After that mess, Thor had returned, too, explaining what had gone on in England. He also said that the All-Father – Odin, anyway – had allowed for him to stay on Earth with Jane. Tony thought that was pretty decent of the guy, considering his past judgments. Thor hadn't said anything about Loki, and the Avengers hadn't asked. They'd all assumed he was still locked up in Asgard's jail.

Apparently not, Tony thought to himself privately.

Regardless, he put it out of his mind and dove back into his work.

: : :

The next time he runs into Loki, Tony doesn't see it coming at all.

It's a night club – one of the ones he really likes, but hasn't been to in a while – and he slips in as he usually does, slapping the bouncer companionably on the shoulder as he enters ahead of the line. The staff all know him here, and bless their souls the bartender already has his drink of choice set out for him with an amused grin.

"Been a while, Tony. Busy with those supervillains?" Tony grins at him, bright and wide, and takes a sip of his drink, leaning forward on the bar.

"You know it. But I figure I'd deprived you guys of my presence long enough. Your DJ know what I want?" The bartender chuckles, shaking his head as he polishes a glass.

"Go ask him. He's new, I'm sure he'll be properly star-studded at seeing _you_ his second night on the job."

"Hey, as long as he throws down some phat beats, I don't give a damn." Tony waves the bartender off as he winds through the crowd towards the DJ, intending on insisting about his requests. They even have a playlist for him here – none of that classic rock he uses for thinking music, but modern pop with a good bass line and shitty lyrics. If there's one redeeming quality about how bad mainstream music's become, it's in the now-acceptable grinding up against perfect strangers. Had Howard Stark seen what passed for 'the youth's entertainment', these days, he would've probably had an aneurysm. Grinning meanly at the thought of the old man shouting at the top of his lungs at a roomful of partiers, face red, Tony ducks and dodges around the dancers to put in the request for his party playlist, slipping the shell-shocked, wide-eyed new kid a $100 bill and winking as he disappears back into the crowd.

It's halfway through the playlist and he's off to the side for a breather, peering around the room for tonight's Mrs. Right, when two slender arms come up from behind him, around his chest, and there's a sultry whisper in his ear.

"Dance with me?" The voice has a cadence to it that Tony can't quite place, but the whisper of her soft hair presses against his cheek as she leans forward.

"Well, that depends. Do you really wanna dance or shall we take this elsewhere? Because you're already all over me and I – " He turns in her arms as he speaks, grin cocky and not a little lecherous, but he trails off when he catches sight of her face. It's delicate but sharp, thin but softened around the edges, and her eyes are hooded under slender eyebrows as she watches him. Her hair is an endless curtain of solid black, some falling over her shoulders, straight but curled at the ends, as though she'd treated it to get it that straight. She's taller than him, too. Tony's grin has gone slack and he's quick to dial the charm back up, smoothly sliding his arms forward. She's not thin, not like some of the girls here, but not fat; solid, in a late-twenties sort of way, her stomach soft as his palm brushes past it and her waist slightly tapered, enough for his arms to feel at home as they settle around it, locking her in. Tony decides the rest of the girls here can go straight to hell – not that he'd tell them that, there will be other nights, after all –

"Is that a yes?" She's angling her face down at him, eyes laughing at him, and goddamn it _Tony's_ the player, here, he shouldn't be so taken from one look alone, it's not like he's not been propositioned before –

"No, that's a where-have-you-been-all-my-life and do you like classic cars?" Tony shoots one of his usual lines in an uncharacteristic flustered reaction, but she laughs smoothly at him and cups his cheek with one hand, the other pressing against the nape of his neck, eyes dark and fiery and intent and oh shit he's really screwed because now he's imagining doing all _sorts_ of things to her.

He drove here, after all. In _one_ of said classic cars. Which will probably get all kinds of messy if things go as planned. The woman leans in and mouths at his ear unexpectedly, breath hot.

"My dance, first." Tony doesn't wait to drag her onto the dance floor. If that's what he's gotta do to seal this deal, he'll do it in a heartbeat. She presses to him and he pulls her in and they're doing what two pros such as them do best – well, next to engineering, for him – and her hands are in his hair and god she isn't _shy, _not at all. Some girls try too hard to win him over, some play the domestic, but this woman _takes_ what she wants and doesn't ask for permission, just drags him in for a kiss halfway through their dance and then they're basically dry-humping amidst all the other couples doing the same. The dress she's wearing is satin with a sheen to it, something that makes his hands slide off it if he doesn't grip tightly enough.

Some time later they make it to the car and she suggests going back to his place. Tony's not thinking with his higher head, by this point, and so he forgets the bit about doing it in his car and instead steps on the gas to head back to his swish house. As soon as he parks, she leans over the seat and kisses him, hand groping for his crotch and – just like with all the other girls at this point in the night – Tony thinks he's in love. They somehow make it out of the car and Jarvis unlocks the door as he presses her against it. They stumble inside and to the bed and he pulls her into the right room before she tackles him, kissing down his throat and already pumping him and his body is singing with pleasure.

It's a long, satisfying night. They switch places often, because she won't have it any other way, and Tony falls asleep near dawn after a particularly mind-blowing orgasm, with her arm draped over his hip. His hand's in her hair – no longer straight, but in damp black waves and tangled – so he can't really complain.

What's strange, is the next morning he wakes and she's not there. It doesn't really bother him – he's familiar with one-night stands, and hey, this saves him the awkwardness of Pepper needing to take care of it. So he gets out of bed, just pulling on a pair of boxers and a T-shirt, and heads out to the living room for some easy cereal for breakfast. What startles him is seeing her sitting primly on his white leather couch, staring out at the stunning panorama the large windows facing the sea offer. After the Mandarin's goons had destroyed it, Tony'd rebuilt his house better and more reinforced, but he was always a sucker for the awesome view. The glass was well and beyond bulletproof, this time, though.

What strikes him, next, is that she's not wearing the dress from last night. The only reason this seems important is because he hadn't remembered her bringing any clothes, and the low-cut vest and chic pencil skirt strike him as things he would've remembered. Her hair is perfect again, pulled back in a long braid down her back and Tony realizes he's just standing there, saying nothing. She glances back at him before he can, though, her eyes dark and challenging and he takes a step back, putting his hands up as she stalks over to him.

"Hey, whoa, I know last night was great but uh – " He's always been bad at this part of the night. Sex is easy. Morning-afters are hard. Most girls who catch him in the morning want to stay and cozy up to him and be his wife. Tony hopes to god that that isn't the case, here. But her eyes aren't possessive. They're – loathing? Tony's eyes widen and he laughs highly, nervous. "Ohhh, OK. I've pissed you off. Um. Maybe you should just – just go home? I mean we knew what this was and what it wasn't, and you don't strike me as the type to – "

"Tony Stark. Are you really such a fool?" He's brought up short, at that accusing, low tone, and blinks at her, startled. He doesn't get the joke.

"What?" The woman strides up to him, her height looming over him, eyes burning in her face. She reaches a hand up to hold him roughly by the back of the neck, and hisses down at him, her face a fearsome mask of fury.

"_You_. Are a _fool. _Is a pretty female face all it takes to get past your defenses?"

"What are you – " And then she starts to _glow _around the edges and by the time Tony sees a flicker of something green – like electricity, no, like _magic _– flicker over her face, he realizes it a split-second before it changes to something much more masculine and familiar, but no less incensed.

"You – you _little shit_, what the _fuck_ was that for?" Tony bursts out, suddenly feeling vulnerable and none-too-comfortable with the knowledge staring back at him, his eyes wide and mouth slack with equal parts shock and fury. Loki's still gripping his neck, hard, and Tony shoves him away with a sense of impending doom as he stares at the god, incredulous. "You… I… we…" Loki peers back at him, grimly.

"Yes, Tony Stark. You have copulated with me." A smirk climbs high on one side of Loki's face. "Do you regret it that much? You seemed so eager last night – " Tony gapes at him.

"I thought you were a _woman_! Shit! What kind of messed-up world do you live in? What the fuck, man?" Loki considers him, eyes hooding dangerously.

"My gender is that much of a deterrent?" Tony makes a frustrated noise, and shoves him in the chest, back teeth grinding as he glares up at him.

"So _not_ the point, here! Shit!" Tony runs an agitated hand through his hair, turning his back on Loki and trying to calm down from the realization. He shakes his head. He can't make sense of it. "Not that I'm complaining, but – " He glances back over his shoulder, sharply, towards where Loki's standing; a solitary silhouette in black jeans and a green V-necked shirt against the blue sky, through the windows. "_Why?"_ Clearly, Loki'd done his research on him. But why? Just to fuck with him? Curiosity?

Loki looks away, surprising him.

"I am… doing research on mortals, while I am here." He offers, stiffly, still not looking at Tony. "The differences in how each gender is treated are intriguing. Also, females lack the ability to impregnate others and so in taking that form, the risk of spreading half-god children through the human race is eliminated, since I have a choice in allowing conception. Beyond that, taking on a female form assures more anonymity and such as – "

"So you decided to fuck the great Tony Stark so you can go bragging to your supervillain buddies about how easy I am when it comes to girls?" Tony's not sure who he's angrier with; Loki, for tricking him with obviously ulterior motives, or himself for not seeing it coming.

Loki surprises him, again.

"No!" He sounds just as incensed as Tony, shooting a reproachful glare back at him. "I did not know it was _you_, Tony Stark! The lighting in the club was dark, I had only pegged you as a man seeking a partner for the night and you moved well to the music – I thought it would be child's play to coerce you into my bed. I was right." Tony stares at him.

"You seriously don't expect me to believe this was all a coincidence, do you?" Loki's glare spikes, aggressively.

"You accuse me of lying?"

"Considering I'm talking to the fucking God of Lies and Deception, I'd say that's a _yes!"_ Tony bellows back at him, and Loki's moved forward to grab him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him up. The fabric stretches in protest, and Tony's a little afraid it'll rip, but he's more afraid of the sparking green fire in Loki's eyes than anything else. Not that he lets it show. But Loki doesn't say anything to his accusations, so Tony just plows on. "What, didn't feel like stopping? What, didn't hear Jarvis welcome me home, last night? Just wanted to mindfuck me? Too busy plotting my demise?" Loki snarls at him, leaning in as he drags Tony up and closer, teeth seeming unnaturally sharp in his rage.

"You assume too much, mortal. I was… otherwise engaged, as were you, otherwise I would have noticed these details before you shared my bed. It was dark…" That last comment is murmured ruefully, Loki's eyes slanting off to the side and Tony takes the opportunity to grab his hand and try to pull it off him.

Loki surprising him seems to be the theme of the morning, because Loki _lets_ Tony pull himself free. And if he's anything like Thor, Tony's meager strength probably felt like a kitten's, to Loki. It's that which gives him pause, which makes Tony peer back up at the God of Mischief like he's never quite seen him, before.

"… wait a minute. If you don't want little baby Lokis running around, why not just use condoms like the rest of us?" Loki's nose wrinkles and for an insane moment Tony actually finds it funny.

"I despise those wretched plastic socks. It cuts down on the experience." Tony eyes him, fingers still curled around Loki's wrist, which Loki hasn't tried to take back, yet.

"Then why not just 'control yourself', like you do with conception in a female body?" Loki sends him a nasty look, but it's tempered by something Tony can't quite place. (… Uncertainty?)

"Anatomy does not work that way. On the female level, when I shift forms, I have the option of ensuring there are no eggs to be fertilized." Loki's tone is icy, as though he doesn't enjoy explaining this. Tony can't understand why, as the concept is fascinating. Imagine if real women could do the same! Loki continues, oblivious to Tony's tangential thoughts. "On the off-chance I miss one and _do_ conceive, I am fully aware of the conception after a day or two and so can nullify the pregnancy before it becomes an issue." Tony stares at him.

"So, you just like being a slut instead of a player?" Loki shoots him a look as though he's not entirely sure Tony's _not_ insulting him, and Tony grins lightly, releasing Loki's wrist to put his hands up in front of his chest, in surrender. "Hey, no judgment, man." Then his curiosity gets the better of him. "So what's it like?" Loki stares at him.

"… What?" Tony presses on, grinning lasciviously and leaning in.

"Being a woman. What's it feel like? Did you like it when I – " The hand that covers his mouth is one of lighting speed, and Tony feels a little gratified at seeing a light flush high on Loki's goddamned cheekbones. The fingers digging into his cheeks in a bruising hold aren't as much fun, though.

"If you value your life, mortal, you will not finish that sentence." Loki states, lowly, and Tony resists the urge to grin cheekily up at him. He doesn't know what's going on, here, but Loki hasn't tried to kill him and he didn't kill him last night, so things are looking pretty good. Tony nods, acquiescing when it's clear Loki won't let him go until he agrees. True to form, Loki releases him at that point. Tony rubs his jaw, as they consider each other.

"So. A one-time thing, right?" Loki's lips purse, and Tony's narcissism gets the better of him. "I mean, I know I'm _fabulous_, a real diamond in the rough, but – "

"You do not know the meaning of humility, do you?" Loki asks dryly, and Tony grins wide at him.

"Nope! But. A one-time thing, right?" Loki sighs, and Tony has the strong suspicion he's resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"No. Yes. Never again. You have your…" Loki waves a hand in an out-of-character lack of vocabulary, and Tony snorts.

"Yeah, I don't think the team would be thrilled. Or Pepper, for that matter. Definitely not Thor." Loki winces, at the name, and shoots a warning look at Tony.

"Not a _word_ to – " Tony's already shaking his head, putting his hands up, palms out.

"No worries, there, man. I'm not suicidal." Loki sniffs at him, and Tony thinks he's covering a laugh. Then Tony realizes his half of the situation. "Oh, um. You're not gonna say anything to… ?" Loki blinks, then smirks a little.

"Your bedroom secrets are safe with me, Stark. As satisfying as it might be to gloat over how easily I breached your defenses, in the right disguise, I believe I would lose the other villains' respect if they knew you had… What is the Midgardian term? 'Nailed' me?" Tony chokes a little on his snort, and waves off Loki's look of mild concern.

"Um… yeah, no, I get it. So." He puts out his hand, and Loki peers at it for a moment before reaching his own out, to shake. "Never again." Loki nods at him, and Tony grips his hand out of something nameless – something wrong, that's quickly buried.

"Yes. Farewell, Tony Stark." And just like that, in a flash of green magic, Loki is gone.

Tony eats his breakfast, goes down to his workshop and takes one of the engines of his cars apart. He doesn't think about it for the rest of the day, by sheer force of will.

(Except for that part of his brain that can't help replaying everything they did, only now painting Loki's more familiar male face over the aggressive, dominating female one caught in pleasure so many times over the course of that night.)

: : :

Enough time passes that Tony forgets about it. No, he actually does, and this isn't some denial working. For a few weeks he's a little too weirded-out to go clubbing again, but after his newest stroke of genius for updating the suit followed by working for 46 hours straight and then 10 hours asleep, he wakes up ready to hit the town again. If there's anything Tony knows about life, it's work hard and play harder. Considering making things technically falls into the category he enjoys, though, Tony arbitrarily sticks meeting with the board meetings or with the Avengers as his work, and everything else as play.

Speaking of, now that Thor's back on Earth for an indefinite sabbatical from Asgard (they have a pool running about how long it'll take Odin's good mood to end, and call his son back, though), their meetings have been upped to once a week. The big guy seems pretty happy, and a lot of that probably has to do with Jane Foster. Tony's pretty sure Thor never thought he'd get to spend as much time with her as Odin's letting him, now. Maybe the war-father up there in Asgard actually has a heart, after all.

(It almost makes Tony jealous. Big Wolf Howard Stark, genius of his age, couldn't spare a hug for his own kid. Didn't give a fuck when Tony tried to bring home his first girlfriend; didn't even bother to meet her. The family dinner his mom had planned all fell apart when Howard called to say he couldn't make it out of NYC, big things to do, big projects to push through. They ended up having dinner with just the three of them; Tony's mom trying too hard, Tony's date feeling awkward and uncomfortable at the unvoiced family tension sizzling in the air, and Tony realizing how little his life mattered to his own dad. Sort of tells you why Tony buries himself in machines and one-night stands, doesn't it? When he's creating he's in that 'other', no-self state of mind – until he runs the tests, anyway, and then it's all posturing for the camera DUM-E's sporting – and when he's fucking he's purposefully choosing not to think _anything._)

Tony's conscience is battling with his pride, about mentioning he's seen Loki. Steve, he knows, would give him this disapproving look for not saying anything earlier. Natasha would see right through him, know the truth in an instant, and then examine her fingernails, bored. Cliff would get this vengeful light in his eyes and Tony just _knows_ he'd go to stalk the places he'd mentioned, seeking out payback for Loki using him when he came for the Tesseract. Bruce would probably blink, and give no visible outward reaction, but would corner Tony later and carefully ask him for the real story. Bruce wouldn't pressure him like Steve would, though, because he's cool and definitely not military-minded, like that. Bruce would just want to know, to make sure Tony's OK. Steve would want to know for the 'safety of humanity' or something like that.

Thor? Thor would probably call for Mjolnir in a heartbeat, punching a hammer-sized hole through a good amount of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s reinforced walls in the process. And Tony's OK with that, really; Fury's pulsing angry vein should have its own soundtrack built around it. He'd protest that Loki's locked away in Asgard, unable to commit any acts of mischief, but would then proceed to book it home, just to check. And then who would have to explain Thor's sudden absence to Jane Foster, if Odin then decided he wanted his first-born son and heir home, again?

Tony. Tony _Fucking _Stark.

All of that drama is definitely _not_ worth it, especially when 1) Loki's not _done_ anything, yet, and 2) It's been_ months_ since that run-in in the coffee shop and the weird accidental tryst they had.

So Tony leaves it alone.

: : :

An end to the stalemate comes in the form of Clint one day shrieking from the balcony that there's a huge-ass crow out there. Tony is one of the first to get there, and indeed – it _is_ huge. The bird must be three meters tall, to say nothing of its probably equally impressive wingspan. Natasha was sunbathing beside Clint, and Tony can tell she is watching the bird carefully from behind her sunglasses, for all she still looks relaxed. Tony hears Steve come up behind him, looking out of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out on the balcony and pausing visibly, hesitating.

"Why do you think it's here?" Steve asks him, not taking his eyes off the bird but voice quiet enough that he's clearly addressing Tony. Tony shrugs, eyes skimming the sheen of the sun on black feathers for lack of anything better to do. Clint must have spilled his drink all over his own lap (like a boss), but he's otherwise staring up at the thing with something almost akin to awe, now that the shock's worn off. Tony squints, thinking he sees a golden medallion sporting one letter hung around the crow's neck. 'M'? Why 'M'?

"Muginn?" Thor's voice echoes from the open door to the balcony, and Tony and Steve turn to catch Thor's thunderstruck (hah!) expression, before it melts into confusion. The bird cants its head and looks directly at Thor.

"The All-Father requests your presence." Thor frowns while Clint silently freaks out to Natasha (in pantomime; Tony's not _blind) _about the bird actually being able to _talk._ Steve's taking it all in stride, eyes sharp and brow furrowed towards the crow and _fuck_ if Tony's going to be the only one acting uncool, here, so he's calm, too.

"He had given me permission to remain on Midgard. What is – "

"It is not to be spoken of, here." The crow peers around at the Avengers (sans Dr. Banner and Mr. Hulk), and Tony feels small for an instant as the ancient gaze pauses on him. But still, Thor presses.

"Why not send Sif, or the Warriors Three?" Muggin – is that its name? – returns its beady black eyes to Thor.

"They would not be fast enough. There is no time, Thor. You must return." Muggin – really, that's the name that's going to stick, no matter how wrong it is and now Tony can't get the image of the crow in a trenchcoat holding up some poor schmuck in a black-and-white film's alleyway somewhere for his wallet – is firm. It spreads its wings, talons flexing on the railing where it perches. Thor frowns again, but calls Mjolnir to him anyway. Tony winces as he hears the sound of the hammer punching through his walls, and resigns himself to new (and fabulously innovative!) renovations as it claps home in Thor's palm. Thor is dressed with a literal bolt of lightning, and he casts an apologetic smile to the group as Muggin leaps into the air. Tony's distracted; he sees the crow flying upward in a spiral, and out of the swirling clouds overhead appears a round portal of a bright, shining city.

_Is that Asgard?_ He thinks, not a little in awe, wondering how fast he can get in his suit and follow. His brain is itching with questions, it notwithstanding that Jane Foster is the only human ever to set foot on Asgard. He'd peppered her with questions until she told him to stop – not that it mattered if he stopped or not, because his mind was still running over everything she'd deigned to tell him, which wasn't much.

But Thor is talking, now, and Tony tunes back into the conversation. He tries to ignore the scientific salivation going on in the back of his head, too.

" – her?" Tony assumes it was about Jane Foster when Steve nods his head.

"I'll tell her." Steve gives a crooked smile which Tony guesses is from memories of Peggy (_yes_, Tony read the file – so what?). "Come back soon. Don't make her wait." Thor gives Steve a look that reminds Tony of a sad, troubled old man, but it is gone when Thor looks up, lifting Mjolnir towards the sky. Thor shoots up and through the portal as fast as – well, _lightning_. Muggin cranes its neck to observe the Avengers – sans Dr. Banner and Thor, now – watching from the balcony, before flicking its wings and soaring into the shimmering reflection of a city. Tony notices the surface ripple before it sucks in on itself – as though someone were drinking up a puddle with a straw – making an audible 'pop' that Tony guesses is Earth's dimension closing back around the space occupied by the portal.

The sky is blue, with clouds, not a sign anywhere of what has just occurred.

: : :

Thor is gone a week, and when he returns it is with the Bifrost, alerting everyone in the tower and making them scramble for the roof. They hadn't expected him back so soon, although they'd (and Jane Foster) been hoping.

Tony theorizes that Muggin and Huggin – he read up on some Norse mythology while Thor was gone, all right? – have their own ways to travel through the Nine Realms, and so can easily open portals for themselves. Tony figures those two crows would be pretty inconvenient for Odin-the-war-father as his means of communication and reconnaissance if they had to use the Bifrost to come and go, every time.

And no, by the way – "Muggin" and "Huggin" are _not_ their real names, but they're sure-as-shit easier for Tony to remember!

Thor's face is troubled when the light of the Bifrost fades and Steve strides forward, all wholesome concern.

"What happened, Thor?" Thor looks at each of them in turn, his face a twist of anguish.

"I have not told all, my friends. For that I am filled with regret. Come, let us talk over the Table of Meeting." Not used to their usually-exuberant resident alien prince being so somber, everyone just follows. They call Bruce in from Stark Tower's R&D floors, and settle in the Avengers conference room. It's here where they meet on video calls with Fury, and it's here that Thor sets Mjolnir down by the door, and then proceeds to pace while the rest of the Avengers remain seated, waiting patiently.

"The events of 2013. You recall them?" Tony answers.

"You mean Greenwich, England? Yeah. _You_ were the one who briefed us on that party, big guy." Thor nods.

"As Jane can attest, there were other issues besides Malekith and his nefarious plot. I have not shared these with you." Thor seems to hesitate, and everyone in the room can feel the atmosphere tighten. Thor lifts his head and there is nothing but sorrow in his eyes. "Malekith's ships nearly destroyed our palace. He sought Jane and to reclaim the Aether within her. To prevent Jane from falling into the hands of Malekith, my mother battled with him. She bought us time, and fought well. But Malekith had one of the Kursed with him – a suicidal power-enhancing ability thought long lost to time. This Kursed killed my mother, and Loki and I journeyed with Jane to Svartalfheim and killed _him._" There is a fevered strength to that last sentence, of vengeance delivered with satisfaction, Thor's eyes over-bright and impassioned. The room rings with the silence of this revelation.

Tony feels the echoes of his lost parents. He's sure Steve feels it, too. Bruce, Natasha and Clint he can't speak for, as they don't talk about their pasts much. It makes sense, now. Why Thor's smiled a little less ever since coming back to Earth since 2013. Why Jane Foster is so protective of him, these days.

"Thor, I'm so – " Steve starts, ever the good guy, but Thor raises a hand to stay him, shaking his head.

"There is more." Thor's face has taken on the tired, world-weary look of the aged man, again. Tony wonders at it. "In the battle on Svartalfheim, Loki and I struggled against Malekith's Kursed companion while Malekith made his escape to Earth. We fought well, and Loki saved my life, but the Kursed impaled him on the very sword Loki stabbed him with. In parting, as he fell, my _brother _– " Tony hears the fight in Thor's words, as he does not allow this painful memory to get the better of him. " – activated the wormhole-grenades held on the Kursed's belt. The monster was sucked into oblivion." Thor's jaw sets, and he raises his chin as though in defiance of his next words. "Loki died with honor."

The words ring in Tony's head, but he can't believe them. Suddenly, the memory of a few months ago comes crashing down around his ears in excruciating clarity. First of all, Loki is _alive_. Tony doesn't know what happened during that battle in Sv-whatever-heim, but he's 99.9% sure the Loki he met a few months ago was not an illusion, not a ghost, not _anything_ but the _real_ Loki. Tony opens his mouth stupidly, to contradict Thor's comment without thinking of how he'll explain his way out of keeping his two random meet-ups with Loki a secret.

"But it was only another trick." Thor looks visibly relieved, at this, smiling wanly at his friends and their concerned faces. And Tony realizes it matters but it doesn't matter, that Loki's alive. Thor still lost his mom, and nothing will change that. "A week ago, Loki returned to Asgard." Thor smiles at them with effort, and Tony knows he's right about Thor still missing his mother, as thankful as he is to have his brother back. "He claimed he had faked his death, in order to slip away from an even greater threat. But he warns us that this threat now threatens Asgard and Midgard, and so emerged from the shadows. For Loki's protection, no one but my father and I know of his return. He was sly enough to catch father alone, and to keep his return a secret from the court, who still believes him dead." That last sentence, Tony can hear the pride in, and he grins reflexively as Thor smiles at him, catching a whiff of where this is going.

"Earth, too, eh? Does that mean we all get to take a trip to Asgard in the name of defense and collaboration?" Tony snarks. He knows, as much as Asgard professes peace and equality with Earth, that the Asgardians don't like mortals on their turf. Thor surprises him by beaming.

"You are always clever, Man of Iron! Yes, my father has extended an invitation to the Avengers, as Midgard's mightiest warriors, that some of you would come and speak with us concerning the threat posed to our two worlds."

There is a long pause. Then Clint whoops, springing up onto the table and Natasha rolls her eyes at him. Bruce and Steve are staring at Thor as though he just announced he won the Nobel Peace Prize. Tony just lets out a sharp laugh.

"Well _that_ was unexpected. Odin finally pull that stick out of his ass?" Thor's brows furrow at him and Tony grins, more.

"My father rules the Nine Realms. He does not have a donkey with a stick in its anus." Steve covers a snort, but shakes his head.

"As good news as this is, we can't all go. It'd leave Earth undefended." He says, simply, and Tony looks towards the ceiling in thought.

"Good point, Cap." Tony concedes. "So, who wants to take a trip to an alien homeworld? Tony grins as Steve winces, and then Tony glances towards Bruce, who gives him an apologetic smile. "Nobody?" Clint is, of course, practically dancing (badly) on the table with joy, and Natasha is unreadable, as usual. Tony shrugs. "Count me in if you'd prefer to stay in your corner of the universe, Fearless Leader." Steve gives him a Look and Tony counters with a charming smirk, leaning back in his seat and gesturing with his hand. "My suit would come in handy for a good impression, anyway, I'd think, since you Asgardians are all about armor. Is that a no, Bruce?" Bruce smiles at him, sheepishly.

"I don't think the Big Guy's a fan of the Bifrost." That startles a snort out of Tony, but he shrugs.

"Hey, whatever floats his boat. I'll take some notes on the science over there for you." Bruce gives him a grateful look, and Tony smiles at him, knowing that Bruce's curiosity about Asgard was probably on par with his own, even if Bruce would never take the risk of going, himself. The Hulk in literally alien territory was an intergalactic incident waiting to happen – or so Bruce thought, anyway. Tony, however, had always trusted him, especially after New York.

(He knew who had been the one to save him from dying on impact with the ground, at the end.)

"So that's Cap and Bruce staying, Thor, me and Clint going… what about you, Natasha?" She stares at Tony for a moment before shrugging, and leaning back in her chair, ever poised.

"Seems smart to divide it evenly, don't you think? Three go, three stay. Works for me." Her tone is neutral and unaffected, and Tony blows her a kiss.

"I'll bring you back a souvenir, sweetheart." Natasha just deadpans at him, not rising to the bait like a _normal _person would – because giving him what he wants is beneath her – and he grins at her.

A trip to Asgard, hunh? See these aliens that think themselves gods be on equal footing in a discussion with 'mere mortals', drink their ale that Thor's always going on about, poke around at their science and technology – or maybe their magic and knowledge, according to Asgard – flirt with some freakishly-strong alien women…

This is going to be _fun_.


	2. These Stories Not As Dr Selvig Recalls

In which we are given a privileged glimpse of Thor and Loki's childhood and adolescence.

Title: Dance a Little Dance

Chapter Two: These Stories Aren't Quite As Dr. Selvig Remembers

Word Count: 4,558

[Total Word Count: 12,896]

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Eventual FrostIron/IronFrost, if we can get there in one piece.

Warning: Language, violence, mean things done to children (is Odin considered an abusive parent?)

Spoilers: Norse mythology with creative license to fit it into the MCU. Specifically, the ones where Loki's lips are sewn shut, the death of Baldur, and the origins of Hel, Jormungandr (a.k.a. the Midgard Serpent) and Fenrir.

Author: Kisnau

Date: Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Miscellaneous Notes: A bit of a break in the current storyline, but I feel these events are important to clarify~ :3

: : : : : : :

Once, a long time before Sif was a respected warrior in her own right, before Mjolnir had been created, before Thor, Loki and the would-be Warriors Three had even grown halfway into adults – there was another child.

This child – Sif – had long golden hair that fell to her knees, which the adult goddesses would praise and pamper and dress for her. Given she was not allowed to play with the boys, or even train for battle and not mere defense, Frigga took her under her wing and trained her in secret. Sif's flaxen hair was pulled into a glorious high ponytail during these sessions, swept back and dancing through the air like a ribbon as she fought. Loki would often secretly watch these, jealous as he was for his mother's attention. Only once did he mention to Thor what a good fighter Sif was, in retaliation to a comment from Thor about how useless women were in battle. Thor called his bluff, and Loki challenged him to see for himself.

The next training session, Loki and Thor hid under Loki's invisibility magic – imperfect, and so they concealed themselves in the shadows, nonetheless – and watched. Loki held a restraining arm on his brother so Thor would not break their secrecy, but it was unneeded. Thor remained still, attentive and awed, as he watched the two women fight. Frigga, he had always known as kind and gentle and strong, but she was before him as a demanding but calm teacher to the young Sif, who tried in earnest to land a hit. When the training was over, Thor burst from the shadows and proclaimed Sif was the finest female warrior he had ever beheld, and clasped her forearm with both of his in a gesture of equality and respect. Sif's clothing was not armor, merely her dress of that day bound up so as not to trip her, and she blushed at the words. Frigga gazed at Thor with pride in her eyes, and Loki felt the bitter taste of jealousy sting in his throat.

He had watched Frigga and Sif train for all these days, but had never dared reveal himself. And here, he had set up his own failure by bringing Thor, whose presence had Sif instantly smitten. Furthermore, Frigga's eyes were full of affection for Thor's progressive realization. Loki felt a stab of bitterness that it had not been Thor's natural inclination to believe such a thing. No, it had been Loki's idea, but as always it was stolen by Thor. Everything he valued was stolen by Thor. Feeling prickly with pain and deciding to channel it elsewhere, Loki strode forward with a laugh, eyes sharp and tone haughty.

"Oh, yes, a fine warrior you make, Sif! But your golden hair is an open target! Allow me to remedy that!" Loki sneered this, jerking his hand to the side as though to cut, two fingers pressed together. There was a glimmer of green magic, and a neat line sliced off Sif's glorious ponytail, making it fall to the ground. Her remaining hair now fell around her cheeks in a ragged, short cut. Everyone stared at Loki in shock for a moment, before Sif, upset, turned and ran away. Frigga frowned at him, but Loki didn't notice, only reveled in the satisfaction of taking something important away from someone who would never see him – not after meeting _Thor._

Thor, for his part, shouted in outrage and caught his brother by his collar, eyes angry and furious.

"Brother! You will replace what you have taken!" Everyone knew Sif's golden hair as the most wonderful in all of Asgard; even Thor. Loki smiled meanly at his brother.

"How can I? I cannot weave gold from air." Thor stewed at him for a moment, before Frigga interjected.

"Go to Nidavellir and request that the sons of the dwarf Ivaldi fashion her new hair, fairer than her own before." Loki jerked, looking up to his mother in shock, but her eyes were firm, her expression caught in a small frown of disappointment. Loki felt his throat tighten, at causing that expression.

"But it's _Thor's _fault –!" Frigga's gaze hardened, silently declaring Loki should claim responsibility for his own actions, and Loki fell silent. He hung his head and mumbled an agreement to do as asked.

Ivaldi welcomed Loki courteously, and set his sons to work. In addition to a new head of hair for Sif – dark and raven-like, calling to the night, and indeed would render her more beautiful than before – they crafted two other marvels. One was the ship of all ships, Skidbladnir, which could be shrunk, put into one's pocket and always had a favorable wind. The other was the spear Gungnir, presented to Loki as a great gift for Odin. Allowing his royal entourage to hold the items in question, ever-curious Loki had it in mind to explore the caves of the dwarves more. He came upon a pair of adult brothers, Brokkr and Sindri, working at a forge. Loki called them over, and showed off the marvels his entourage carried. The brothers were duly impressed, and Loki gave them a troublemaker's smile as he cuttingly remarked that he doubted they could make anything so wonderful. The brothers exchanged a look, and one asked what Loki would give them if he could. The young prince laughed, and dismissed the very idea, but countered with a suitable bet.

"If you can, why I'll give you my tongue!" The brothers considered him, and to Loki's great shock they agreed to the bet. Not overly nervous – for what Ivaldi's sons had fashioned were without equal! – Loki turned to go back to Asgard with his entourage, but sparked a bit of magic into the air. Two flies emerged from sparks of green nothingness; one the biting kind and controlled by magic and the other merely hovering so Loki could watch the brothers work.

Seeing their skill even despite his young age – for Loki had watched Ivaldi's sons work, as well – Loki directed the harmful fly to bite Sindri's hand. Sindri jerked, and when he at last pulled his creation out of the fire, it was a live boar with golden hair. This was Gullinbursti, and it could run better than any horse, even over air and water.

For the second item, Sindri placed a nugget of gold on the fire while Brokkr fed the flames. The fly bit Brokkr on the neck, causing his fingers to twitch, and when the gold was pulled out of the fire it had become the ring Draupnir. Every ninth night, eight rings would drip from this ring, each of equal weight.

For the final item, Sindri put a lump of iron over the fire and told Brokkr they must be especially careful about this one, because there would be no room for mistakes, now. Feeling particularly vicious about the two brothers getting the best of _him_, the _Silvertongue_, Loki had his fly bite Brokkr's eye. The blood half-blinded the dwarf, but he worked through it, hands on his work and unable to wipe it away. Sindri had fashioned the mighty hammer Mjolnir, which had but one flaw, as the handle was too short. This item would return to its wielder's hand and never miss its mark.

The brothers rejoiced at finishing their task, at proving the arrogant young prince wrong, and left for Asgard to collect their dues. Every child must learn their lessons, after all.

In Asgard, Loki dismissed his fly spell and dreaded losing his precious tongue. So, he sought to think of a way to wriggle out of his side of the bargain.

When the brothers arrived before Odin, the All-Father accepted their gifts with surprise and asked what the price would be for items so fine. Sindri spoke of Loki's bet with them, and Odin's eye hardened. He called for his younger son, and Loki emerged from the shadows beside the steps to the throne. Odin asked if it was true, that he had made this bet with the dwarves, and Loki said it was so, standing tall and regal for all his youth. Brokkr began to advance on him with a knife, but Loki continued to speak, calm and cool despite the situation.

"However, you can only take my tongue if you leave me my tastebuds." Furious at this response, Sindri accused Loki of lying to them to win such powerful items for Odin. Loki denied this, and Brokkr grabbed him by the collar in anger. Odin's voice rang out over all of them, and his eye was steel as he watched his troublesome son.

"Since you enjoy spinning words so much, we will take them from you." For a moment, Loki was afraid Odin _would_ allow his tongue to be cut out, tastebuds or no. But Odin went on. "Your lips will be sewn shut for fifty years, as punishment. My Queen, fetch your needle and thread."

To Loki's great horror and humiliation, Thor took this moment to make his entrance. His older brother glanced around the room, at Frigga's sorrowful face as she returned with the requested needle and thread, at Brokkr and Sindri's satisfied smiles.

"What is happening?" Odin turned his eye to Thor, and in that moment Loki wished his brother had stayed away. Sif emerged after Thor, but not so close to the throne. She was a small figure against the people of the court, the gift of her dark brown hair already on her head, and pulled back by one of the courtiers into a simple braid. Loki was ashamed for this to be done in public, and tore his eyes away from her, to his father, eyes pleading.

"Father, please no! Not like this! I can – " But Odin only spoke over him, sparing Loki barely a few words and not even a glance.

"You must learn your lesson, my son. Thor, help them hold your brother down." Loki froze, knowing it was pointless. He had made his bed, and Odin would not allow him to flee from it.

_Thor would have been forgiven. _His mind supplied viciously, unseeing as Brokkr moved forward to hold Loki's shoulders down, pinning him on his back to the cold stone of the great hall. Thor tried to argue, but a clipped command from Odin silenced him, as well. Thor's blue eyes were on his as he obeyed, confused and worried, but Loki looked away as his brother's hands clasped around his shins, holding him still. Loki looked up as Sindri grinned down at him, the dwarf sitting on his stomach as a third reinforcement, ensuring Loki couldn't move. He threaded the needle – it looked to be a magical thread, and Loki had eyes for magic.

He knew it would last the fifty years. He wouldn't be able to cut it before the time was up.

"Come, little lying prince, let's make you better company for a while." Sindri's grin was eager and motivated by scratched pride, and Loki shut his eyes tight with a whimper as the needle punctured his lower lip. He tried to turn his head away, but Sindri's other hand came up to hold his chin in a vice-grip, not allowing the escape. For the first stitch or two, to cement the thread in his skin so the other stitches would not come undone, Loki held back his sobs. Sadly, he was young and weak and soon they leaked out, anyway. Thor's hands on his legs gripped him tighter, and Loki was briefly glad his brother couldn't see his face as Sindri sewed his mouth shut. It was agony as Sindri worked the needle through his lips, magic tingling along the holes in his skin in tandem with Odin's decree that the punishment would last fifty years. Loki's eyes never opened, and tears slid down his cheeks and over his temples as the torment continued.

When Sindri was done, he and Brokkr declared their satisfaction at the substitution, and returned to Nidavellir. Loki's public humiliation complete, Odin allowed Frigga to have her maids take Loki away to his room and tend to him. They padded gently at the blood on his chin from the puncture wounds, and cleaned him up as best they could. A few hours later, when his raw skin had healed around the injuries, they bathed him and changed his clothes. They didn't speak to him; it wasn't as though Loki could respond in kind. Thor came to see him, later, and rushed to hug him. Loki flinched, but allowed it. Thor muttered comforts in his ear and Loki sighed through his nose, catching the good intent. He allowed Thor to hold him. Frigga entered not long after, and swept her sons into her embrace. They stayed like that for a moment, as she explained quietly that Odin had no choice but to do what he did, since the dwarves had marched into Asgard in front of the entire court.

Odin could not be seen as weak, not even in a matter concerning his own son.

The fifty years were a long time for Loki, who had only been 400 at the time of the incident. He didn't eat during this time, and so grew weak and pale, but never strayed close to death. When he was 450, the threads his mouth had healed around glowed and disappeared. His mouth was sensitive, and Loki could only just bear to eat and drink small amounts; so unlike the huge plates and gallons Thor devoured. The scars took fifty more years to fade, and that was only because Frigga used her healing magic on them, every day. She had said something quietly, like "A foolish mistake does not deserve a lifetime of punishment," and waved off Loki's concerned eyes about Odin finding out she had helped heal him, "I will deal with your father, if he raises the question."

It took some time for him to remember how to talk, after so long. But his mind had never dulled; if anything, Loki had grown more careful with his words, but not in the way Odin intended. He no longer spoke what he felt, having learned it was better to play neutral and unaffected. Words were powerful things, and to be respected. He _had _learned a lesson; to be a better liar, to ensure he always had a way out of a conversation, and to not foolishly accept a proposal, no matter how unlikely it seemed to happen. Before, he had been known as the Silvertongue, and only after this ordeal did Loki begin to truly build his reputation as the God of Lies and Deception.

One didn't always need to lie in order to deceive, after all.

: : :

Odin and Frigga had had a son before Thor, of course. His name was Baldur, and he was some years older than Thor. When Thor had been born in 914 AD (and Loki, later in 964 AD), Baldur was already 300 years old. He was a favorite of the court, and someone Thor looked up to throughout all of Loki's childhood. Baldur was everything light, pure and beautiful about the world. Frigga smiled more when he was around, and Thor did his best to live up to his older brother's battle prowess.

When they were old enough, Odin explained to Thor and Loki that Baldur had refused the throne. He enjoyed simply existing too much to carry the weight of the Nine Realms on his shoulders. Thus, when telling the story of the war against the Frost Giants to defend Midgard, Odin promised Thor and Loki – respectively 600 and 550 years old – that one day the throne would fall to one of them. Thor would earn Mjolnir a few centuries later – when he was 1000 – to everyone's great pride.

Baldur was not with them, after that. He died, of course, but no one had seen it coming. Frigga had long ago heard from the Norns that Baldur's death was unavoidable, but still had done everything in her power to prevent it from coming true. Frigga had made everything in existence swear not to harm Baldur, and this oath was taken seriously by all that had sworn it. The gods of Asgard found it endlessly amusing to throw anything they could find at Baldur, after this, since nothing could harm him.

It was Loki who did it. Oh, not on purpose, of course. He had been walking around the outskirts of Asgard, talking to the flora about his indestructible brother Baldur, and a small mistletoe bush spoke up. It told him Frigga had not extracted an oath from it to do no harm to Baldur, and intrigued, Loki cut off a branch of the bush and fashioned it into an arrow. He didn't really believe something so small and weak could harm Baldur, but thought it would be interesting to give it a test, nonetheless.

Back in Asgard, he placed the arrow in the quiver of one of the gods taking part in the usual game of throwing things at Baldur, then sat back and watched. When the mistletoe arrow was drawn, Loki's sharp eyes paid attention to its path as it soared through the air, grazing Baldur's arm. To everyone's surprise, it drew a slash of blood and Baldur screamed, clapping a hand to the wound as he collapsed. Frozen, Loki watched as the gods crowded around his brother before a wail of anguish went up from the group.

Loki had killed him. No one knew the truth, but Loki knew that he was the one who had caused it, even if indirectly.

They burned Baldur, and his wife Nanna threw herself upon the flames of his funeral pyre. Their son, Forseti, looked on, stone-faced as his parents disappeared into the fire. Loki felt horrible guilt, but he could not say a word.

: : :

Remembering Odin's wishes for peace with Jotunheim, Loki departs soon after to be an ambassador. He is only 800 years old, but he cites grief and wishing to do some good in a world where Baldur no longer exists. He is haunted by his guilt, and gives into a base way to rid himself of it.

It is over the next 150 years that Angrboda works closely with Loki in an attempt to establish ties between Asgard and Jotunheim that are not forged by war, and she gives him three children; the wolf Fenrir, the child Hela and the serpent Jormungandr. When the children are revealed to him, Loki is shocked at how Angrboda tells him she managed this. Fenrir is from the boiling resentment Loki keeps hidden in his heart against Thor, Hela is borne of his apathy, and Jormungandr is his enormous cunning personified. Loki accuses her of using him to get to the throne of Asgard and Angrboda smirks lazily at him and tells him to 'be a good father'. Loki kills her for her betrayal of his trust and takes his children into his arms. Tricks are all well and good, but this is different. Loki doesn't know what to do.

Fenrir is nothing more than a puppy scratching at his shins, whining to be picked up. Hela is a toddler clutching to his shirt as he holds her. Jormungandr is not so large, yet, but Loki can see the energy crackling along his scales and knows the python-size snake hanging around his neck and off his shoulders will one day be a giant. Loki loves them, would protect them at all costs, but he is dismayed at the possible scandal in Asgard, if only because it would hurt his family more than himself, who is already hated. Nonetheless, he returns home secretly with his children and tells Frigga of Angrboda's betrayal. With her dead, he cannot leave them in Jotunheim alone. In retrospect, it was perhaps a foolish move for him to kill her. Heimdall does not see them in Jotunheim, does not see them as they sneak in through one of Loki's secret passageways, but once they are in Asgard Loki knows it is only a matter of time before Heimdall senses them. These children are too powerful to ever be safe. And surely enough, Odin storms in during his plea for Frigga to help, and Loki is shocked and dismayed at the harsh judgment to come.

Odin takes the children from him, refusing to acknowledge them as part of his family despite Frigga's and Loki's visible distress. Odin calls them a 'shame you will never overcome, my son', and Loki seethes because how _dare_ Odin speak as though Loki were ashamed of his own children? Only later does Loki realize this is but the first step into a hole where Odin will always look down upon him. This is the first major offense Loki has committed and Thor doesn't know, he is off fighting somewhere, or celebrating (aren't they the same thing?), and Frigga holds Loki as he strains to pull the little ones back into his arms. She knows there is no changing Odin's mind, and Loki_ understands_ this, but he didn't expect to be found out so soon, nor for it to hurt so much.

Hela, Odin relegates to Helheim as its Princess – and then Queen, once she is old enough – as one side of her body is an unsightly Jotun blue, and one eye is red (including the sclera). She ages too quickly and Loki blames the Jotun blood and magic in her veins. Jotuns age quickly – they must, otherwise all their infants would succumb to the harsh elements of their own land. Later, Loki realizes later, with horror, as he discovers his true origins that Hela never had a chance to 'age normally'. Due to Odin's glamour on him for so many years, Loki is a hybrid; half-Aesir, half-Jotun. Having a Jotun mother, Hela is thus three-quarters Jotun. Thus, it is really no surprise that by 2014 in Midgard, Hela is comfortably ensconced as an adolescent Princess in Helheim. Odin is the most gentle in his punishment to Hela, actually – he has made her the eventual ruler of the Nine Realms, as everything must one day die. Everything will come to Hela, in death, and she will give it judgment. Loki suspects it is because she is the most Aesir-looking of his three children. The Jotun details can be dismissed, apparently, when one takes into account her brothers' natural forms are that of beasts. Odin's prejudice towards the Aesir is keenly felt, and later Loki will be grateful that his status as a hybrid of two beings helped his daughter curry Odin's favor. In retrospect, if she had had the entire body of a Jotun, Loki doubts the All-Father would have been so lenient.

Jormungandr, Odin flings through time, aging him as Jormungandr passes back through the eons and dropping him into the sea of Midgard; the now-ancient and gigantic serpent wraps around Earth, bites his own tail, and holds the planet together. He serves as a barrier between Midgard and Jotunheim, to prevent travel from the latter to the former. This action would essentially make pointless Odin's battle with the Frost Giants if Jormungandr is sent to Midgard before 964 AD, and so Odin is careful to place him there only _after_ the battle, so no paradoxical universes can crop up from this addition to the timeline. When Jormungandr releases his own tail, the world will end. A strange and slightly unsettling realization for Loki is that his own son is now double his age; due to Jormungandr traveling back through time to 964 AD, and then living through those same years that already aged him. When Odin does this, it is 1914 AD in Midgard, and Loki is 950 years old. Jormungandr, born in 1914, is 1,900 years old.

Fenrir is cursed with the fate of killing Odin, but Loki is relieved at least that Odin does not kill his son, outright. Instead, Odin addresses the court of the gods and announces that this wolf – not his grandson, no, of course not, merely a creature loosened upon the realms, inhuman and power-hungry – is growing too fast and too dangerous to be free. Loki bitterly attributes this to Fenrir's Jotun mother and his own magical influence. Odin enlists the help of the dwarves in creating a rope strong enough to bind him. Fenrir, for all his infancy, smells something is amiss and does not agree to be bound. Loki intervenes without revealing his relationship to his son, and suggests a god could put a hand in Fenrir's mouth. If the bindings hold, Fenrir will bite and take the hand as vengeance for being bound. If they do not hold, Fenrir will not bite and seek his escape, and the gods shall not try to bind him again. It seems a fair deal, and Loki is half-hoping no one will volunteer. But, no – Tyr is the one who steps forward, and the rope of the dwarves holds. Fenrir bites off Tyr's hand – a last, bitter statement of revenge, giving some relief to the rage living in him, that should not be Fenrir's to bear. Tyr's hand does not grow back, but he is respected for his self-sacrifice, all the same. No one knows that Fenrir is Loki's son, and Loki is forced to do nothing as he feels Odin's eyes on him. Loki knows he should be grateful Odin is not killing Fenrir when it is foretold Fenrir will be Odin's end, but it still tastes like poison in the back of Loki's throat as those innocent, puppy-like eyes gaze up at him mournfully from a dangerous, overgrown form as Fenrir is taken away.

Some of these stories make it into Norse myth, because Loki steps into time while protecting himself from aging against it as he goes back. The Vikings, at least, will know of Loki's children for what they are. He tells the human children stories in the form of an old woman, and invents a story about 'the god Loki' sleeping as a mare with a stallion and bearing a foal. It makes the mortals laugh and throws off any suspicions they might have over his identity. For why would proud, powerful Loki tell a story that demeaned him in such a way? He mentions Thor and Odin, as well, and to his irritation the Vikings take to the bloodthirsty tales as though they are the epitome of nobility. Loki does not hide his disdain for their bloodlust, but the disapproval of an old woman – as he dare not reveal himself – does not do much to stem youthful vigor. This he knows well, being Thor's brother. And while Loki is not a physically feeble old woman with a mind sharp as a tack, he can relate to someone not taking him seriously because he cannot physically force them to comply. Oh, and he _could_ – his true strength far outweighs that of the mortals around him – but that would blow his cover. So, Loki sits patiently and watches the Vikings pillage and plunder – just like Thor and his companions – before moving on to another village. He does this for a while before growing bored and returning to Asgard in the early 1900s of Midgardian time.


	3. How Not To Piss Off A God-King

So now Thor is home, and Tony and Clint are already bearing the roles of honored warrior-diplomats for this strategic defense interplanetary conference. Loki's there, too, acting just as weird as ever and Tony notices he feels generally off-beat to Asgard's steady drum. But the real oddball is the king himself, who – given how much Tony's heard of Odin's wrath, his dislike of mortals, and the recent loss of his queen – is as cold and calculating as any businessman with whom Tony's had to deal.

Title: Dance a Little Dance

Chapter Three: How Not To Piss Off A God-King

Word Count: 4,631

[Total Word Count: 17,527 ]

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Eventual FrostIron/IronFrost, if we can get there in one piece.

Warning: Language, violence, technical malfunctions

Spoilers: Incorporates everything in the main storyline up to the ending of "Thor: The Dark World". Also, Tony still has the shrapnel, electromagnet and arc reactor in his chest.

Author: Kisnau

Date: Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Miscellaneous Notes: I wrote all of this back in January, but have been staggering the updates. Haven't written anything new for this fic, yet. Part of that is due to me getting a concussion, so – under doctor's orders – I've been trying to take it easy on both the physical and mental activities, but I figured a few days before Valentine's was a good time to post this. :3

Hopefully I'll be able to write more, soon! In the meantime, please do enjoy this chapter~

: : : : : : :

Soon – but not soon enough, as Tony's thinking of Pepper on her way over to rant at him and take over responsibility for Stark Industries yet _again_ – the three of them are standing atop the Tower, suited up and ready to go with their bags. Tony figures he might as well go for the whole Asgard experience, so he's got just his briefcase suit on, and some T-shirts, a pair of jeans and 'Earth necessities' in the bag. The packing is mostly due to Jarvis' recommendations and Steve, who's still seeming a bit leery about the whole situation. But Tony trusts Thor, and he knows conferences. He doesn't think this will take more than a few days unless some serious shit goes down, so the Armani ensemble he's wearing under the suit should suffice to make a good impression.

Clint's packing light, too. There are a few things Tony'd packed, himself – like a Stark tablet and the portable arc-reactor-powered energy source he can use to charge it, in addition to a back-up reactor for his chest, just in case. Alien homeworld or no, Tony's pretty sure Asgard's electricity isn't regulated enough to supply delicate Earth-made devices with their needed juice (he's seen Thor in action, after all), and Tony's never done well disconnected from technology for very long. It'll also be an excellent chance to test the multi-world communicators he'd been toying with. Pepper's got one, and if it works Tony will be telling her, himself, that he's safely landed in Asgard.

More importantly, as Thor raises his hammer towards the sky and calls for Heimdall, Tony wonders why Loki let his brother think he was dead. Sure, it seemed it was a while ago, but that's no excuse for Thor's guilt-stricken face about not telling them Loki was dead. Thor had been grieving. But what had possessed Loki to come back? The two times Tony saw him in Malibu, Loki hadn't seemed desperate. In fact, he'd seemed anything but.

Had Loki _really_ been on vacation? If he was a fugitive, knowing he was just barely escaping Asgardian (and Earth) justice, wouldn't he have been in hiding? Or had Loki _known_ Tony was in Malibu, and chosen that place specifically on the off-chance he'd run into Tony? But why would Loki do something like that? Why would Loki _want _to run into him? Why had Loki stayed perfectly calm, in that coffee shop, fully aware it was Iron Man who was walking up to him? Tony knew Clint had said something about Loki pulling information from his head. Had Loki pulled _that_ information? Did he have a rough idea of the backgrounds of the Avengers – at least, as much as Clint knew? The thought was disturbing.

Tony's musings were cut short as the Bifrost opened around them, and they were sucked into the tunnel of space. He was thankful for the armor around him as they encountered turbulence and Clint clutched to Thor's muscled arm like it was a lifeline. Who knows, maybe it was. What happened if someone fell out of the Bifrost between planets, anyway?

His suit's sensors were going crazy as they recorded the energy waves around him, the screen scrambling from static and overload of energy. Unexpectedly, the electricity surged into the arc reactor from the suit, seeking an outlet for the overload and Tony felt his chest tighten as the arc reactor's energy swelled beyond safe levels. This wasn't the 400% he'd gotten when Thor tried his hammer on him. This was 1000%, all around him - it hurt – it _ached_, and he shook involuntarily as the extra electricity sang along his nerves like an electrocution as some of it leaked out of the arc reactor. Thor noticed the shaking before Clint did, and Tony tried to wave him off, but then they were landing and Tony stumbled forward onto solid ground as the suit buckled from the sudden absence of power, the blindingly bright HUD screen flickering before going black. He had the time to think _oh, shit, fuck, I should've quadrupled instead of tripled the layers of failsafes and surge protectors_ before his momentum took him forward after the initial landing. The knees in the suit wouldn't bend, and Tony flinched as the floor hit him straight-on, thankful for the armor even as it left a good dent in the floor of whatever magnificent gateway they'd just entered.

"Tony?! Hey, man, what's – " Clint.

"Man of Iron?" Thor.

But lying face-down in a blacked-out suit wasn't really his style, _so_:

"Uh. Little help here? Technical malfunction." Tony could have sworn a lilting, arrogant voice chuckled in his ear. It didn't come from anyone behind him, more from… the floor?

_Performance issues?_

That voice was a little _too _familiar.

Tony cursed his unresponsive suit and wondered, not for the first time, if it all was just Loki screwing with him for the hell of it. Then, there were hands on him – probably Thor's – pulling him and his dead weight of armor up with surprising strength.

: : :

The suit wouldn't boot back up, and Tony loudly protested Thor just ripping it off him, piece by piece. The arc reactor was doing fine, oddly enough, and Tony was suspicious as to why. It had been overloaded with too much electricity, so it shouldn't be running, much less acting normally. It should've shorted out; not that Tony was complaining. Since the suit wouldn't connect with the power source, though, Tony had to guess that the connections between the suit and the reactor had been severed. Maybe it had even saved his life. Regardless, once they had him standing – courtesy of Thor's steadying hand on one of his shoulders – Tony told Clint about the small release hatch hidden in the back of the suit's left calf. What was within was for emergencies only, as it was a special tool that would enable him to manually extract himself from his suit in the event the suit lost all power. The release wasn't electronic, either, so it couldn't be compromised. Once they're somewhere less exposed than the gateway of the Bifrost, Tony will tell Clint to get it out so he can get out of this nonfunctioning suit.

Someone – he can't exactly see through the lifeless black screen of his HUD – mentions that it does no good to block the entrance to the Bifrost like this, but Tony just rolls his eyes and says it'll literally take a minute. They're not supposed to meet with Odin until tomorrow, anyway. The suit is unwieldy without power, and that'll take about a day to fix if he can find the shorted circuits and repair them before hooking up his extra reactor to test how it runs. After Tony tells Clint to click the manual release on the faceplate and it slides up into the top of the helmet like it's supposed to, Tony feels a stare. Tony looks up, and locks eyes with the Keeper – Heim-something, Tony thinks it was. Whoever he is, the man is tall and imposing. He is stone-faced, and his eyes are pale yellow, seeming to almost be glowing with the energy of the Bifrost itself. It's beyond unnerving, but Tony's never been very good at keeping his mouth shut, anyway.

"Those're some eyes you've got, uh." His sentence gets cuts off as the man stares unemotionally at him – wait, he _is_ a man, right? Not some weird carved-stone-given-life kind-of gatekeeper? Not that there's anything _wrong _with that…

"Man of Iron." Thor asks, firmly driving the conversation away from Tony's awkwardness, and Tony looks at him. "What do you require of us?" Thor is serious when he asks.

After trying to lighten the mood by asking for a good scotch, Tony sighs. He admits that it's going to take a minute to manually detach the suit from around him, and afterwards it'll take some time to recalibrate it all. Theoretically, it _should_ all go back into its dormant briefcase-form, but if the circuits are fried then Tony knows he's screwed. Still, he's not ready to give up on his own handiwork that easily. Tony tells Thor point-blank that he'll need a place to work, and Thor smiles. Thor admits they had given Clint and Tony their own rooms in the palace, and that Tony's was one of the few that leads to a separate, hidden room. Clint immediately whines about the unfairness of this, and Thor casts him an amused look, asking if Clint would prefer the Iron Man technology get poked over by the maids that will clean their rooms, without Tony's permission. Tony huffs a chuckle, at that, and is steadily trying to ignore the claustrophobia trying to set in from being trapped in his own suit.

They get underway soon enough, Clint hanging off Thor's back like a monkey so he doesn't fly off and one of Tony's armored shoulders held in Thor's firm grip. Thor's other hand rises above their heads with Mjolnir, and they take off for the palace with a predictable peal of thunder (seriously, Asgard, points for great sound effects). The Bifrost sparkles beneath them, and Tony can at least move his head to see the glittering expanse as it shoots by.

: : :

They fly through the window in Tony's room, first, and Thor goes to the vanity in the opposite corner, upon which various baubles sit with what looks like a good layer of dust. He picks one of these up. It is a crystal hexagon at the bottom, the sections leading to a fine point at the top. It is no more than three inches tall, maybe. Thor smiles as he lifts it, showing it to them, and strides two steps to the side. He sweeps a curtain aside from the wall, and neatly slots the point of the crystal into a suspiciously hexagon-shaped carving in the stone.

_How predictable_, Tony thinks dryly as part of the wall shimmers into nonexistence, but shakes it off as Thor turns to pick him up and carry him through the doorway. Clint follows, and Tony notices that this 'hidden room' is really nothing more than a barren closet. The walls are a lazy, natural white, and there is only one table – too small to serve as a worktable – and a stool off to the side. There are no windows, but the ceiling seems to glow with a clear yellow light that reminds Tony of candles or the old kind of lightbulbs. Thor sets him down facing the door they just came through, and Tony's eyes widen as he notices the crystal from the other side of the wall is in the exact same position, only inside the room, now. Thor laughs as Clint sets to work unhooking Tony's right shoulder from the armor, and explains.

"A security measure, Man of Iron. The crystal senses when someone passes through the doorway and shifts to the proper side. You cannot be locked in, or locked out, against your will." Tony stares at him.

"Well, wasn't_ that_ thoughtful of the makers of this place." Thor smiles.

"I will tell my father we have arrived, and that you, my friends, shall meet with him on the morrow, as planned. I wish you luck in repairing your suit. Eye of Hawk, when your assistance is no longer required, there will be someone waiting outside to show you to your room." Thor nods to them, then turns and leaves. After a few minutes, Clint's wrangled Tony's backpack containing his change of clothes and supplies off of him. Then, Clint is following Tony's directions exactly in order to retrieve the emergency tool in the back of the suit's left calf. Soon enough, Tony's right arm is free and he sighs in relief as it falls to the stone floor with a loud clang. It's not broken, of course; the metal alloy is too tough to get a dent just from gravity. The mechanism for the arm kicks in as Clint and Tony watch it on the floor. The metal separates the wrist from the rest of the arm, and said arm scuttles in towards the center from both ends until it is only a metal ring resembling a red roll of duct tape, with the layers neatly pressed together inside. The gauntlet twirls its fingers into the scale-like things its made up of, a small ball resembling a fist without fingers all that remains when all the layers have reverted to their dormant state.

Clint looks up from the floor and asks if Tony needs any more help. Tony can see he's dying to explore the castle – probably find some nests, while he's at it, too. Besides, Tony's not exactly proud of the way his tech failed so spectacularly on the way over here, and he'd prefer to nurse his pride in private. So he holds out his free hand out for the emergency tool, and waves Clint off to his waiting manservant.

"Nah, I've got this." Clint shrugs and leaves, and Tony is left alone to a long night of manually removing his armor.

: : :

It really only takes a couple hours for Tony to finish, and he collapses in a heap next to the few parts he'd not yet attached to the bigger briefcase puzzle. Once in their dormant state, the parts fit together exceptionally well, electricity shorted out or no. He'd camped out on the floor to avoid any possible falls from unwieldy equipment, and removed the helmet, neck plating, chest plate and the other arm, first. He'd discarded the Armani jacket over top of the table, trying to avoid wrinkling it. Pepper would want him to make a good impression, after all. He laid the collared shirt and tie over top of it, and pulled on one of his T-shirts from his backpack instead. Next, he'd set to getting the legs of the armor off, including his shoes. Upon finally freeing his feet, Tony wriggled his toes in their socks and discarded the matching Armani pants, as well, favoring a relaxed fit pair of jeans. His mind was wound too tight from the careful work it'd taken to remove everything. Sure, some of his other suits were designed to come off easier, but this one was more portable and Tony honestly hadn't thought that the Bifrost would mess up his electronics, when it'd handled Mjolnir all right. It was a miscalculation that he'd have to remember for the future.

Tony wanders out of his room and notices it's dark outside. He hadn't thought it was that late, but maybe the days in Asgard are shorter than the ones on Earth. The halls are high and in the light of the torches Tony can see the glimmer of gold. Having never been in want of money, it doesn't appeal to him in the way it might a poorer man. Still, it is very nice to look at and Tony walks with his neck craned back until he trips over something soft lying in the walkway. He nearly falls, but catches himself in time and looks around as one of the shadows moves, rising.

It's Loki, a book in one hand and looking concerned but princely in what must be his royal clothes. Tony notices a scuff mark on the bottom edge of his cloak and guesses that's what he'd tripped over. Tony steps back from Loki's outstretched hand and polite apology. Tony's face is hard and he doesn't answer. He remembers the last time they saw each other. Still he sees a flicker of confusion on Loki's face, before it's masked by a pleasant smile.

"Tony Starkson. I had heard from my brother that you had arrived safely. I'm glad." There's a niggling edge of doubt poking at Tony, and he frowns a little, but focuses on the conversation, instead.

"Yeah. That Bifrost is one hell of a roller coaster ride." Loki's face is neutral enough that Tony knows he has no idea what he's talking about, and that makes him feel a vicious little stab of superiority. Riding it, he continues, almost snapping. "So, what're you doing back here? Some Big Bad hovering over your shoulder, so you run crying home? Pretty risky considering Odin threw you into a cell, last time." Loki's eyes shutter themselves, and his smile is suddenly much more congenial and aloof.

"I trust my father's judgments." Loki recites faithfully, as though he's long practiced this. "What he did, he did for the good of Asgard."

"And faking your death in front of Thor, was that for 'the good of Asgard', too?" Tony shoots back at him, blatantly interrupting the bullshit. Loki pauses, and eyes him searchingly for a moment, but no other emotion touches his face.

"It was necessary." He enunciates carefully, eyes flicking over Tony's face. "I was weakened from my long imprisonment, and Thor was hardly subtle in our escape. Other eyes were watching. I needed those eyes to see me dead." It sounds simple. Too simple. It still doesn't explain why Loki had been on Earth. Why he'd looked so _comfortable_, in that coffee shop. Why he'd been masquerading as a woman in a club; experimenting. Why would Loki run back to _Earth_, of all places? Surely 'those eyes' – if they had anything to do with the Chitauri and the attempted invasion, back in 2012 – would still be on Earth, seeking out another weakness. Instead of asking the question he wants to know, though, Tony opts for a better one.

"Why'd you wait two years to come back?" Tony knows it hasn't been two years since he last saw Loki. If anything, it's been the better part of a year since their little accidental tryst. But to Thor, it _has_ been two years. And Tony knows Thor's no diplomat, and isn't good at lying, but surely Loki could've trusted _someone_. Loki smiles, and Tony can see the lie a mile away, so he cuts him off as Loki goes to answer.

"There were – "

"And why'd you pick Earth? Or were the other planets' clubs just not up to snuff?" The look Loki gives him is one of pure bafflement, and for a moment Tony thinks he's misstepped. Maybe that night didn't happen, after all. There's no record of it, anyway. Maybe it was just his fucked-up imagination and too much liquor –

"Starkson." There's the chink of metal against stone and Tony turns. Expecting the inevitable but not wanting it to be true – no, yep, there are two guards. Maybe picking a fight with one of Odin's sons in the middle of a hallway hadn't been such a good idea. Tony glances to Loki for help, but the damn Trickster's vanished. The guards don't look all that intimidating, though, and maybe that's a good thing. Tony sums up his bravado – painfully aware he's in only a T-shirt, jeans and socks – and shoots them a cocksure smile.

"What can I do for you, boys?" The guards are unaffected, but nod towards him in respect.

"The All-Father requests your presence for a private audience." Tony's brows and curiosity peak; the latter is the only thing keeping him from giving a snide retort.

"Well, who am I to keep him waiting?" The guards nod again. Upon reflecting, it's probably not a good idea to piss off the King of Asgard while in his kingdom – much as Tony would like to see Odin's face turn red. He has to wonder if Odin would look more like Santa or Howard, at that point.

"Please follow us, Sir Starkson." They turn back the way they'd come, and start off at a good pace. Tony follows them more leisurely, taking his time to drink in the sights of the palace as they pass through its many halls and lit torches.

: : :

Tony's expecting to be led to the throne room, but the room the guards shoo him into is more a private meeting chamber than the echoing halls he'd expected. Odin is sitting in a chair almost as regal as his throne; and if not, at least made in the same vein. The king gives him a slight inclination of his head in respect, and gestures to a chair only marginally less ornate than his own.

"Starkson." Tony doesn't bother correcting him – hey, it's better than 'Howardson', anyway – and plops into the indicated chair, humoring him.

"Odin." They size each other up, for a moment, until Odin breaks the silence, his voice only just pleasant.

"I see you are no longer wearing your armor. It is reparable? Thor had mentioned an unforeseen complication, on your journey over the Bifrost." Tony gives his most socially lubricated smile.

"Nothing to worry about. I built it, I'll fix it. It's what I do." Tony offers, civilly. Odin's one eye is still watching him, assessing.

"You fix things, on Midgard?" Tony shrugs, reclining into his chair, arms folding behind his head; the picture of relaxed confidence.

"Build new things, mostly. Tinker with older ones." Odin watches him, and Tony feels a shiver through his heart, like the king is seeing more than he lets on.

"Your history is of iron and smoke." Odin states in a vague voice, and Tony calmly meets his eye. But Odin's looking past him – not in the creepy way of a moment before, but well and truly _past_ him, away from the present. Odin continues, before Tony can think to stop him. "Fire and pain. You lost – "

"Is there a _point _to this meeting, Odin All-Pappy, or can I _go_ now?" Tony starts in a sharp, warning tone and Odin's eye refocuses on him. The creases at the corner of that eye crinkle, although Odin doesn't smile.

"I have the power to return something that was taken from you, Tony Starkson." Tony stops short, and frowns at Odin. He still thinks on his feet, though, and doesn't miss a beat.

"You don't have anything I want." Tony states, flatly, waving a dismissive hand towards Odin and trying to reroute the conversation even as his mind falls upon a million possibilities.

Howard.

No, Maria.

Yinsen.

His heart, free of shrapnel and whole.

Not Obadiah. Obadiah as he _used_ to be, however…

No. Still, _no._ This is fucked up in so many ways.

Now, Odin _does_ smile behind his beard, almost like he knows what Tony's thinking.

Well, _damn_, maybe he does_._ Tony puts on his best poker smile.

"Nothing I want." Tony insists, telling himself the past should stay in the past.

"I will not resurrect one of your dead, Tony Starkson." Odin states in what is almost an amused tone, and Tony feels his heart sink as Odin ignores Tony's attempts to shush his own id. "For that, you would need to venture to Helheim, and ask such of its Queen. No." Odin's eye glitters, and he points at Tony's chest. Tony doesn't need to look down to know it's the arc reactor he indicates.

"I can make you whole again. Return your portable glowing sphere to being the energy marvel it was always meant to be, not merely that which keeps you alive." Tony lifts his head, chin up, and square-on frowns at Odin.

"You can't. I've tried. The doctors opened me up and couldn't operate—"

"I do not refer to external healing methods, Tony Starkson." Odin interrupts him softly, and Tony opens his mouth to protest when Odin holds up a hand, palm up, and a golden apple, hale and whole and shimmering with more light than any fruit has a right to hold appears floating in the air above Odin's crooked fingers. Tony's stunned into silence. When Thor and Loki had first appeared, he did basic research on Norse legends, and now some of it comes back to him, in Jarvis' posh, clinical tone.

_The golden apples of Idunn._

"Yes." Odin offers quietly. The apple spins slowly above Odin's palm and Tony can't help but watch it. "I offer you a bite, Tony Starkson; only a bite, but such is more than enough to repair the damage to your heart. It is a greater boon than any mere mortal deserves." With a wave of Odin's hand, the apple and its light disappears and Tony finds himself blinking spots out of his eyes. When his vision refocuses, he knows the smile on Odin's face has pulled into a smug smirk beneath that snow-white beard. "Still, I offer it to you." And Tony can't help but think, in a mafia tone of voice, _I'm gonna make you an offer you can't refuse._ "You have proven yourself in battle alongside my son, were willing to sacrifice yourself to destroy the Chitauri fleet, and are one of the most tenacious mortals I have observed in my long vigil watching over the Nine Realms."

"Thanks." Tony blurts, still over-thinking.

"This is more than any god hath given a mortal." And Tony frowns a little at the inherent superiority in that statement. He's almost wanting to refuse, on principle, at this blatant attempt at manipulation, or bribery, or whatever-it-is, but Odin merely stares at him. "What say you, Tony Starkson, of Midgard?" Tony hesitates, and then outright smirks in realization.

"I say, what do you want in return?" Odin's brows rise, and Tony knows he's got him. Probably playing on humanity's inherent greed, there – Odin thinking Tony would agree without reading the fine print. Tony's smirk grows sharp, with teeth. "C'mon, I wasn't born yesterday. If you're gonna give out state secrets like _that_, it must mean you want something pretty big in return. What is it? My arc reactor, once it's 'useless'? Got something you need to power, here in Asgard?" Odin's beginning to look offended, and suddenly the king stands, his hands fisted at his sides.

"Your _impudence_, young mortal, will be your downfall." Odin booms, his one eye burning furiously at Tony, who's a little taken aback by the sudden mood-shift. Maybe this is where Loki gets it? "You must face three trials of my devising, and should you succeed, a bite of one of Idunn's apples will be your reward, along with an honorary title as a warrior of Asgard. For what more, could you dare ask?" Tony stares at the incensed king, and after a beat, he stands, as well, hands spread to the side in a show of peace.

"I don't need your title." Tony lifts one hand to his own chest, drawing it into a fist and pointing a thumb back at himself. "I fight for Earth, not Asgard. We're _allies_, Odin; you're not better than us just because you guys live longer and are harder to kill." Odin's lip starts to curl, but Tony's face is serious, as he extends that same hand, for a handshake. "Instead of fluffing my ego up, I say give me the bite and start treating us humans like we're your _equal_ allies, instead of our ancestors who worshipped you as gods. We've come a long way since then, All-Pappy, and you're not the only god out there, anymore."

Odin doesn't look down at his hand, just stares at him, his mouth a thin, stubborn line, his jaw set.

Tony smiles, wryly.

"What do you think? Treat us like any of your other allies, and I'll go through your tests." Odin lifts his chin in a minutely haughty manner that reminds Tony of Loki, but reaches out to shake his hand, anyway. Odin's grip is crushing, but Tony does his best to meet it. There are teeth behind each of their tight-lipped smiles.

"Allies, then, Tony Starkson."

"You bet your fancy spear we are."


	4. Tony Is Not The Only Asshole In The Room

Tony's mysterious agreement with Odin aside, the First Task isn't quite what he predicted. He's not really sure what he'd been expecting, but it_ certainly_ wasn't seeing Howard's judgmental mug after going over 20 years without. Also, his reads of Loki are all over the board; Tony's not sure if the discordant behavior is on purpose, or if it's something else entirely.

Title: Dance a Little Dance

Chapter Four: Tony Is Not The Only Asshole In The Room

Word Count: 5,018

[ Total Word Count: 22,545 ]

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Pairing: Eventual FrostIron/IronFrost, if we can get there in one piece.

Warning: Language, adult themes, daddy issues, verbal abuse

Spoilers: Incorporates everything in the main storyline up to the ending of "Thor: The Dark World". Also, Tony still has the shrapnel, electromagnet and arc reactor in his chest.

Author: Kisnau

Date: Wednesday, March 11, 2015

Miscellaneous Notes: I had to do some tweaking because I mixed up a few things, but everything's sorted, now. Currently, the time in this fic (when Tony and Clint arrive in Asgard) is late January 2015. Thor was on Earth with Jane for Thurseblot (January 5, 2015), as he requested. The next Norse holiday is Disting (February 2), which will also be the celebratory feast that will kick off the intergalactic conference.

The timeline thus far:

March 2014: Tony heads to his Malibu home for some R&R (alone time) from Avengers Tower in NYC.

Early April 2014: Tony runs into Loki at the coffee shop.

Late April 2014: Loki and Tony meet up in the club.

May 2014: Still recovering from the club incident, Tony returns to NYC 'to escape the LA summer heat'.

October 2014: Tony's basically forgotten about the tryst by now.

November 2014: Thor arrives on Earth, after getting an indefinite sabbatical from Asgard.

November-December 2014: Tony considers telling Thor/The Avengers that he's run into Loki.

Early January 2015: Loki arrives in Asgard.

Mid-January 2015: Muginn takes Thor back to Asgard.

Late January 2015: Thor returns to Earth. Tony & Clint then accompany him to Asgard.

: : : : : :

Tony ponders what kind of trials Odin has in store for him all the way back to his room. The guards take their leave, and Tony wanders through an archway he hadn't noticed before, and does a double-take. Behind the screen, next to a huge golden bathtub, there is a maiden standing, and she pulls herself to attention immediately, eyes dropping as she curtsies respectively.

"Sir Starkson. Would you wish for me to draw you a bath?" Tony stares at her for a moment, then the bucket at her feet, then at the tub – with no trace of a spigot to be seen. He shakes his head. What is this, the Middle Ages?

"You guys are gonna need some indoor plumbing." He chews the inside of his cheek, in thought. Then Tony shrugs, and waves her off. "Nah, go ahead and leave. I'm good." The maiden gives no outward sign of her relief, and nods again.

"If you prefer, Sir Starkson, there are also the court's public baths." His ears perk, at that one, and he blinks at her.

"You mean like in Rome?" She gives him an odd look and he grins, a little charmingly sheepish. "Sorry. Actually, that sounds pretty good. Where are they?" She inclines her head and bows respectively.

"I will escort you." Tony nods and makes to follow her – he could use some relaxation after the day he's had; it's not _too_ late, anyway.

"Hey, could we find where Clint and Thor got to?" He asks, as they're walking down the corridors, his eyes still taking in the vast expanse of the huge golden hall they're currently passing through.

"Sir Eye of Hawk retired to his room for the night, requesting not to be disturbed until morning." Inwardly, Tony could already see Clint sneaking out to explore the castle and find himself roosts; a place with high ceilings like this must be candy to him. "The Crown Prince – " Oh, right, Thor was that here, wasn't he? " – was summoned by the All-Father before your audience, M'lord, and I had heard he then retired to his chambers."

Tony jerked a little, at the title, and shook his head from behind her.

"Hey, none of that. I'm just Tony, the mechanic; always have been, always will be." He joked, and the maid gave him another strange look from over her shoulder before inclining her head.

"Sir Starkson." Inwardly groaning, Tony just sighed as she opened the door for the baths, where he was handed off to a manservant dressed in only a toga around his waist – probably because it was so humid in here, thought Tony as he tugged at his shirt. He was given two fluffy, dark red towels to take into the baths with him, and the manservant bowed and mentioned that if Tony needed anything, only to call. He exited the room to allow Tony to undress after Tony waved him off doing that _for_ him. He may have been a spoiled rich kid, but he could at least dress and undress himself, dammit.

Stripping, Tony left his clothes in a pile on the floor and wrapped one of the towels neatly around his waist, pulling the other around behind his neck and holding onto the ends as he walked into the bath proper. The manservant was waiting beside the door, and slipped back inside the adjoining chamber with another bow; probably to wait for any other late-comers.

And _wow_; ginormous was the only word that came to mind. It really was like stepping into Ancient Rome. [1] The only real difference was that the underlying color scheme here was all warm; creamy walls, golden draperies and what looked like a golden-yellow sandstone [2] floor instead of chalky white. The knowledge of a hovering manservant creeped Tony out a bit, but he let it slide and smirked faintly to himself for the irony of the phrase "when in Rome" coming to mind.

The water seemed to be golden-tinted clear and Tony suspected some magic as he put a toe in, smiling as it was pleasantly hot. He discarded the towel around his waist as he climbed in, situating the one around his neck like a pillow so he could lean his head back against the side of the bath as he submerged his body. The warmth permeated his sore muscles and swept past the sweat clogging his pores. Maybe he'd have to reconsider that indoor plumbing thing, if Asgard had huge public baths like this one going for it.

Not for the first time, Tony found himself wondering since the Norse deities had turned out to be based on reality, if there were other ones, too. Asgard was a planet, after all, but to Tony it had just looked like a big city on the waterfront. Had anyone ever explored beyond it? It didn't seem like anyone ever mentioned any Aesir living in the countryside, and to be honest the idea seemed a little off. But then where did they get their food? Tony knew now that the Golden Apples of Idunn were real, but there had to be something else. Or did the Asgardians just go hunting in other realms for meat and vegetables to bring back? Or maybe tributes, if Asgard was the 'capital city' of all the realms; like in Japan? That seemed possible.

Furthermore, were there Roman and Greek gods, too? Egyptian gods? Indian gods – that is, Hindu? Japanese ones? The list of creation legends was almost endless. Had humanity just had a lot of visits from the seemingly-immortal and god-like (hey, Tony could admit it) residents of this particular planet, or were only some of them real and some of them born purely from human imagination, or – what? It made his head turn over in curiosity, and Tony vowed at some point to propose an expedition to maybe see just what else was out there –

"You must be deep in thought, to let your guard down so completely." A voice whispered in his ear, low and deadly along with what felt like the business end of something small and sharp against his throat and Tony froze. His assailant slid into view from his peripheral vision, apparently having already entered the bath soundlessly while Tony had been distracted. But then, Tony's shoulders slumped in relief even as he glared.

"You know, it's not nice to sneak up on people. Not just in general, but _especially_ in baths." Tony accused, and Loki had the gall to smirk up at him and flick the tip of the dagger so it pressed to his jugular, eyes threatening intent.

"_Surely_ you know I've never been nice, Stark."

"That's not the – " Tony paused, brow knitting – _this_ Loki seemed different than the one he'd spoken to, in the hall, but he couldn't put his finger on _why_. Tony considered him, for a moment. In fact, if he remembered correctly, the Loki_ now_ was giving him the same vibe from that night in the club, all those months ago.

Not that he'd known it was Loki back then.

Maybe the turn of his thoughts had shown on his face, because Loki's smirk grew as he leaned back, withdrawing the dagger's curved tip from Tony's throat and tilting his head femininely in a way that totally didn't make Tony's nether regions swell. He swallowed past it – _probably _not a good idea to jump the newly-returned Prince in the bath. It was public; anyone could walk in.

Clint could even be watching at this very moment, hidden somewhere in the shadows of the cavernous ceiling overhead.

That last thought was the one that did it, and Tony gave an easy smile to which Loki looked suitably affronted, his brows lifting high and one arching slightly.

"You're rebuffing my advances?" Loki stated casually, and Tony was a little distracted by the way he started to play that compact, wicked hilt between his fingers. He swallowed. Loki probably wouldn't castrate him here; too much blood to clean out of the filtration system, right?

"Uh, well." Tony started, keeping his voice low and trying to possibly save the situation – as well as _himself_ some grievous injury. "You know, I brought some friends with me. And one of them is pretty good at hiding in high places. So." Loki seemed to consider that, before leaning back elegantly against the side of the bath next to him, elbows propped on the cylindrical stone edge.

"I suppose your reasoning has its merits." One eye watched him from the side, measuredly. Tony was trying very hard not to let his gaze drop to all that pale skin on display – and then he blinked, noticing something odd.

"Wait, are you – _steaming? " _Loki smiled lazily at him, angling his head slightly to show off his neck, a few strands of dark hair plastered there. Inanely, Tony noticed they were starting to curl in the humidity.

"I thought you had reconsidered my offer?" Tony frowned at him, scooting away a little so he could turn slightly to better face Loki. The water sloshed quietly as he did.

"Scientific question. Also, you acted like you didn't remember." Loki's eyes sharpened, and Tony noticed his steaming body (no, there was _literal _steam coming off of where Loki's body met the water, so fuck you, thank you very much) grow abruptly tense.

"We have talked since you came to Asgard?" Loki's voice was low, cutting, urgent and a little off-putting; it went straight to Tony's dick. Tony swallowed again, resisting the urge to cover up. Loki wasn't looking, anyway.

"Uh. Yeah? In the hallway." Tony squinted at him, watched as Loki's mouth flattened into a thin line.

"Stark." Loki began, his head turning to watch him intently. Those eyes were pale – and sorta green, Tony realized belatedly – and compelled him. Tony's chest began to tighten; that look couldn't mean anything good. Not that he was afraid, but if _Loki_ was afraid then that meant probably a whole 'nother shitstorm was a-coming.

"What is it." Tony asked. His voice was very tense over the sound of the constant soft rush of the natural spring's hot water. Loki reached out a hand and put it to the nape of Tony's neck, pulling him in so he could speak against his ear. Tony's eyes widened at what he heard, and he started to reach for Loki, suddenly, feeling unsettled.

"Hey, what do you – Well _shit._" Loki was gone; nothing even giving a hint to his having been there.

(Well, aside from Tony's 'little problem', of course.)

[1] Like a combination of these (Insert dots where the spaces are.):

www old-picture com/europe/pictures/Circular-Abbey jpg

images travelpod com/tw_slides/ta00/c3c/91a/indoor-roman-bath-bath jpg

chadwicks ie/blog/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/ancient-roman-baths-england-1-100812-02 jpg

[2] cycleback files wordpress com/2013/04/07sandstone jpg

: : :

Morning came punishingly early and Tony loudly voiced his objections to the maid when she threw the curtains open; it was just past dawn, but that was still plenty of light to ruin Tony's beauty sleep. Amidst his protests, she returned with two guards who respectfully insisted he come with them; Odin waited, to give Tony his First Task. Now _that_ gave him pause; reminded Tony of the deal they'd struck. So he grumbled, but still rolled out of bed, pulled on one of his fresh T-shirts and a pair of jeans.

The guards escort him through the halls and into what feels like the dungeon level. Tony looks around; he doesn't see any prisoners, but he's starting to wonder if he should've spent the night fixing the problems in the suit. He feels a little better when the guards take him to a door and about-face, bowing to him before turning to face each other and taking a step back, to either side of the door.

"The All-Father has explicitly Forbidden anyone to witness your Ordeal, Sir Tony Starkson." The first states.

"The All-Father awaits your presence beyond these doors." The second continues, and Tony could've rolled his eyes at all the melodrama.

"Yeah, yeah – real impressive job, there, guys; no seriously, 8 out of 10." Tony says sarcastically as he walks forward and pushes the doors open. They part, predictably dramatic, revealing a round spot of light which illuminates Odin as he stands there, looking just-as-predictably regal and somber. The king waves his hand once Tony is inside, and the doors close behind them. Despite the thickness of those heavy doors, Tony can still hear as the guards' spears chink together, and guesses they have barred the doorway by crossing their spears at the ends over it. Tony feels a pulse of unease, but ignores it in favor of not breaking his stride until he's standing before Odin.

In the almost-darkness of the room, Odin raises his hand. There is a light blue magic tingling in his fingertips, and Tony has only a moment before it coalesces and shoots forward – straight into his arc reactor.

_The First Task._

Odin's voice booms , unwelcome, in his head, but it's just a flash before Tony's thrown to the ground. When he looks up, Howard's standing over him. Howard's face is in shadows, and Tony feels a cold emptiness in his chest. He gropes for it, and feels himself break out in a cold sweat when he realizes the arc reactor's gone. Howard's holding it, Tony can see now as Howard raises his hand, his father's face dark and disappointed as his gaze shifts to the glowing reactor in his palm.

"You copied me. You didn't earn this, yourself." Suddenly, Tony's ten again and scared; he reaches out for the arc reactor.

"Dad – " But Howard's mouth is in that grim, firm line it gets when there's no shifting him.

"You even used the element _I _discovered. Is anything of yours truly _yours_, Tony?" Howard's gaze shifts from the arc reactor down to Tony; belittling and contemptuous. "What have you done with your life?"

"I've built things!" Tony explodes, but his voice sounds small in the vacuum. "Just like you taught me! I made weapons to keep America safe, to help our soldiers overseas like you always said – "

"And it was _your_ fault StarkTech was in the hands of those terrorists." Howard interrupts him without yelling; that calmly degrading tone is all he needs. "You made those weapons, you patented them, but you were so busy playing with your distractions that you didn't even _think_ to check to see where Stane was selling them. You didn't bother to _know _where those precious weapons you had made ended up. You just kept playing with your cars and your weapons-grade ammunition and never lifted your head out of the smell of your expensive coffee. You thought your weapons _toys_, Tony, and that's what got you in this mess in the first place." Howard's fingers tighten on the arc reactor, and for a terrifying moment Tony thinks he's going to crush it in his palm. But Howard just looks down at him; always so tall, always disappointed, now bordering on disgust.

"It's time to stop playing with toys. You're no longer a child. Grow up and be a man."

"I'm a better man that _you _were!" Tony explodes, hurt and anger coloring his voice as he struggles to stand against Howard's accusations, trying to ignore the clock in his head that tells him just how little time he has left before the charge leaves the electromagnet and the shrapnel starts crawling inexorably towards his heart. Howard looks surprised, for a moment, and Tony takes his chance and runs with it.

"You never had anything to live up to – you _started_ it all, Dad! You set up the expectations and it was _my _job to keep the company going after you died. I _did_! I'm not saying I did it the 'right way' and I'm not saying I didn't make mistakes, but that's a hell of a lot of pressure to put on a 17-year-old kid [3] who thought he had at least another ten or fifteen years to screw up before needing to take up that mantle! So what if I didn't do it the way you would've done it? You weren't _there_ – you and Mom _died_ and so what if you disapprove of my life choices _now_ because you know what? You weren't _there_ and I took charge of the company in a few months and I did _good!_ And when I found out about what Obie had done, I fixed it! I made the Iron Man suit and took out the StarkTech that the Ten Rings had and became a _superhero_ just like your precious Captain America! We work_ together_, now, Dad, and guess what? It's not _you_ who's Steve's equal! It's _me! _Because maybe, yeah, you were right that he was a decent guy but do you know why he's better than you? He has a _heart_ – he's a soldier but he always tries to do the right thing, and that's more than I can say for you when you always cheated on Mom!"

The words ring in the air and Howard looks shocked. Tony braces himself for the berating to come – Howard never laid a hand on him, whether in anger or pride. No, Howard used his words to bring Tony down, with so many hooks laid into his skin that eventually all Howard had to do was tug and Tony would let himself be pulled along; like a marionette. Tony had done that for so many years, constantly striving to get Howard's attention, Howard's approval, but his father was always focused on other things; big projects, searching for Captain America and the Tesseract – _anything_ but his family.

So, heart racing, Tony feels a little justified in his explosion. It's been a long time coming.

Howard's still staring at him, shocked, and belatedly Tony remembers his arc reactor's missing.

The moment he does, the scene fades and the emptiness in his chest goes away. Tony immediately looks down, putting a hand over the light of the arc reactor humming pleasantly in his chest as though to assure himself it's really there.

There is a quiet clang of metal on stone, and Tony glances up, remembering Odin. The king is staring at him, spear in hand and resting on the ground (it must have been what made that sound). His expression is implacable, but for a moment Tony thinks he sees a flicker of understanding in that solitary eye.

"What the _hell_ was that." Tony breathes, feeling the adrenaline and frustration from a moment ago still built up in his bloodstream. He didn't even remember the Tasks – that it _was _a Task – until Odin brought him back. It's chilling to think someone can manipulate his mind like that. Odin stares at him, measuredly, for a few more moments.

"Your First Task." He states the obvious, and Tony scowls at him.

"That's not – " Odin continues, talking right over him like he's nothing more than an insect.

"I used my magic to bring out an instance in your past where you had an unresolved conflict." Tony is starting to feel uneasy in addition to annoyed, now.

"So, for shits and giggles? What gave you the right to enter my head?" Odin's expression turns stony and coldly irritated.

"It was necessary." Tony scoffs at him, feeling thoroughly violated and so he verbally lashes out.

"Necessary my _ass. _Did you just want to see me rail at my old man like I never did while he was alive? Get the great Tony Stark _upset_? Or was that all _you_, trying to come to terms with the fact one of your sons would rather fake his own _death _than see you again?" Odin's eye flashes, and his spear starts to glow; Tony guesses it's supposed to be threatening. Nonetheless, he smirks straight in the face of the pissed-off god-like king, standing up to his full height; despite the fact that Odin's taller. "Or were you just hoping that Loki gave enough of a shit that _maybe, _just _maybe, _he'd want to talk it all out with you someday when everyone's lives _aren't _threatened with some Big Bad Wolf of the Cosmos knocking on all of our little piggy doors?" Tony's not afraid, and maybe that shows, because Odin pauses, and seems to assess him, before turning away from him.

"Your past shares many similarities with Loki's, as my late Queen had observed and spoke of to me, before her death." Minutely, Odin's shoulders seem to shrink with remembered grief and Tony almost feels bad for him. "I had not anticipated such an altercation being something that still affected you as an adult. I was not aware what memory the emotion was attached to until it had been called forth." It's not an apology, but it's close. Tony wonders if Odin really _is _making an effort to see Midgardians as equal allies, despite their differences. Odin pauses, again. "Perhaps I have underestimated the effect I have on my sons, as well." Odin glances back over his shoulder towards him, but Tony can't read anything in his face.

"Your Ordeal for today is concluded. A servant shall fetch you, tomorrow, for the Second Task." Tony frowns at him, but doesn't have a chance to say anything as Odin disappears, walking into the darkness of the room. The circle of light from above winks out, and the doors behind him open as if on cue, the sound of the guard's spearheads sliding off each other making Tony turn to face the expanse of golden hallways, once again.

_God, but this family is so fucked up._ He can't help but think, as he's escorted back to his quarters (so he doesn't get lost, probably). Sure, he and Maria and Howard didn't have it perfect, but there was none of this 'adoption' nonsense and drama. Yeah, Howard was a shitty dad, but that's sort of just who he _was_; arrogant and self-centered. Tony's pretty sure he's inherited those traits in _droves_. If he found out he wasn't Howard's son, it wouldn't change anything – maybe Loki discovering it had just been bad timing?

Who knows, maybe Odin would let himself learn something from another bad father. After all, it still isn't too late for Loki to make amends with his family. Frigga may be dead, but Thor and Odin are still around to care and worry about him. That's more than Tony had, being an only child. Sure, there had been Jarvis, but no siblings to speak of. DUM-E was probably the closest thing Tony had to an annoyingly inept little brother, actually.

And maybe that was sort of sad, but Tony didn't mind. Not really.

…Although he does wonder, sometimes, what having a brother would've been like. Would they fight, like Loki and Thor do? Would they get along? Would they have made an unstoppable designing and engineering team, or would they have constantly tried to out-do one another? The more Tony lets himself think on it – on the what-ifs – he wonders if they would've both just been screwed. Would a different Stark son have lessened Howard's expectations of him? Or would there have just been a favorite, with the other always lagging behind. Tony wants to believe he'd be the brother in the lead, but he's seen where that's landed Thor and still isn't sure if that's the right way to go.

And what if he was Loki? What if he was never good enough, ever, and Howard just completely ignored him and encouraged the son who would've 'got it done, and done right'. Then Tony would've felt even _more_ inept.

Maybe it's better that it's too late, now, anyway. These thoughts are just the lingering regrets of a childish, pointless, years-old wish for a playmate; someone who could keep up with him.

It's probably just as well. Another kid wouldn't've changed Howard's flaws, after all – they were too engrained (cheating, drinking, neglect, verbal abuse; the list goes on). And Tony doesn't think he has it in him to wish his childhood on someone else; double the misery, double the issues, double the trouble. And not in a good way.

But it takes Tony more effort than it should, to firmly shelve these thoughts.

There are more important things to worry about – like that intergalactic conference coming up. The delegates start arriving today, and some arrived before he and Thor and Clint got here. The names of the realms are in another language, but that'd be nothing to Tony, who's dabbled enough in a few of them (French, German, Japanese) to at least be able to lock away unfamiliar-sounding words in his head – if he puts in the effort to, that is.

There's Asgard, of course, and Earth, 'Midgard'. That's two. Thor was always going on about the 'Nine Realms', so there've gotta be seven more. Tony wonders, for the first time, how diverse the universe really _is_. Given that Odin and Thor and Loki look human enough (just taller and, in the former two's case, beefier), Tony really hopes his alien race expectations à la Star Wars, Star Trek, Babylon 5, Andromeda, Stargate SG-1 and Futurama aren't going to be disappointed.

(His Chitauri nightmares don't count; this is going to be _civilized_ interaction, not all-out war.)

Where's the fun in travelling to another planet to have a conference with aliens about the fate of the universe if they all look like Grade-A white assholes, after all?

…Maybe he should ask Loki for a crash-course in the universe's geography. Or maybe Thor – yeah, Thor is probably safer, especially after what Loki whispered to Tony in the bath. But then again, Thor doesn't really strike Tony as the type to remember all the political nuances of the different realms.

Maybe there's a library around here, where Tony can find a book?

Ormaybe, just _maybe_, this is the perfect chance to test the StarkPad he brought, and see if he can wrangle himself a wireless internet signal. Pepper has, he realizes guiltily, probably worried herself sick about not hearing from him. Well. The least Tony can do is _try_, and see if his StarkPhone (especially adapted for this trip) can connect with Earth's communications network.

Well, nothing to do but give it a whirl. He's got a few hours to kill before some other realm's delegation arrives just in time for the midday meal. Briefly, he wonders why there aren't feasts to honor these guests. When he and Clint had arrived there'd not been much fanfare, but then they hadn't exactly been all decked out in their finest. Maybe it'll be at the end of the week, when everyone has arrived? He thinks Thor mentioned some huge feast to kick off around then, to celebrate the spirit of cooperation and the official start of the conference. Or something like that.

Yeah, that could be it; Odin giving them time to adjust to Asgard and for all the delegations from other planets to arrive, _before_ throwing them all together into a major social event. As far as Tony knows (unless Earth's governments deserve more credit than he's giving them), no one from these other planets have ever seen a human, before, because Tony certainly doesn't know what they'd look like (he honestly didn't buy into all that UFO crap, even though the testimonies had been entertaining). Tack that onto humans probably being one of the physically weaker species out there (hey, Tony can admit it), and Odin figuring it's a better idea to present their new 'allies' in the most ostentatious way possible.

Still, it's oddly considerate of him. Maybe the King of Assholes really _is _making an effort, here.

Well, they do have a deal going on, so Tony figures it makes sense; honor, and all that.

Once at his room, Tony impulsively asks his guide if she can wait. He runs inside and grabs the smaller bag housing his StarkDevices, then asks her if there's a library where he can read about the other realms. She listens obligingly to the request, then merely nods, and turns, gesturing politely.

"This way, Sir Starkson." She starts off, and Tony tries not to groan as he falls into step behind her.

"C'mon, it's just _Tony_!"

[3] For this fic (because the MCU timeline is all sorts of screwy), we're going to say that Tony was born in 1970, and that Howard was born in 1922. This puts Tony at 21 when his parents die in 1991, and Howard at 69 when he dies. Also, this puts Howard at 23 years old in 1945 when WWII ends, and Tony at 3 years old [4] when Howard is 51 and makes that film on September 15, 1973 that we see on the old reel from SHIELD in Iron Man 2011. This means that Howard was 48 when Tony was born. It is still 1991 when (in Iron Man 2008) we learn that Tony, still 21, takes the CEO position in Stark Industries away from Obadiah Stane.

Stane really had only a few months of running Stark Industries before Tony stepped up to take the reins after dealing with the shit of his parents suddenly dying. This adjustment also has the happy coincidence of making Stane more motivated to want to off Tony, if not for Tony being the Golden Goose. Stane had a taste of complete power as essentially a regent-like figure, only to have it taken away. I can just _see_ Stane trying to convince Tony to take more time to grieve, and Tony knowing he needs to do _something_ otherwise he'll start doing self-destructing behavior to deal with it and he doesn't want to live at the bottom of a bottle like his dad.

In May 2015, Tony turns 45. OK? All good? Whew!

[4] I know he looks older in the movie version of that old clip (where Howard tells him to 'put that back where you found it'), but please bear with me; the MCU's timeline for Tony is a nightmare of inconsistencies. Also Tony acts younger and doesn't talk, in that old film, so I'm gonna call creative license here, for my sanity.


End file.
